


All That You Leave Behind

by chasingastarlight



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Jim is not a monster, M/M, POV Multiple, Sherlock is a Mess, basically Johniarty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-23
Updated: 2016-07-27
Packaged: 2018-04-23 02:25:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 22
Words: 43,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4859576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chasingastarlight/pseuds/chasingastarlight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Not every day one gets a message from John Watson asking for help to fake his death. Not every day one gets the chance to be the only one in charge of their enemy's supposedly dead best friend.</p><p>Disclaimer: I do not own these characters, they belong to Sherlock, TV series, they're property of the BBC and Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. No profit is being made out of this, as I write it for my own fun. No copyright infringement intended.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 1

That stupid song was stuck in your head again, and for god's sake your mind couldn't afford itself the luxury of being distracted, not today, no. You had a mission, someone had texted you last night, just the usual, ''dear Jim please will you fix it for me...'' but the remitent wasn't the usual, and somehow you found yourself jumping out of bed and getting into the shower the faster you could, before choosing between the large collection of suits you own the one that could impress him the most. Why you wanted to impress him was a mystery, but oh you did want to so badly. You called Sebastian and within few minutes he was in a car ready to pick you up and take you where you were supposed to meet him, somewhere quiet, away from the busy streets that surrounded you now. It still amazed you how unaware of the danger you represented everyone was, and as you walked down the park on your way to your meeting, you couldn't help but smirk. You could end anyone's life in a beat and no one would ever know it was you, you could choose any mother, father, or kid that annoyed you with their noise and their mere presence and send someone to kill them. It was easy, you were basically the king and you could do as you pleased, yes, maybe you were a psychopath as well, but it was so fun...

John was sitting on a bench, a long distance away from the crowd, in fact, he couldn't hear any kind of human noise at the moment and it was very relaxing, well, it would have been if he hadn't been waiting for one of the most dangerous men he knew to come along and have a chat with him about an extremely delicate topic. He could still go, get up and walk away from what was starting to seem like the worst mistake of his life. The thought of meeting Jim Moriarty made him shiver, and all his body was trembling when he had send the message to him, he couldn't believe what he was doing, he couldn't believe he was betraying Sherlock in this way, he would never forgive him if he found out, he was sure of that, so it had to be a secret... god, how does one keep a secret when Sherlock is the one to keep it from. He felt lost as he waited for the psychopath to arrive, so lost he almost felt the urge to cry right there, let it all out. He felt so many things... but he needed to let go of all of them now, he couldn't do it anymore, pretend to be just friends, pretend as if he didn't feel anything towards his flatmate, pretend to be okay when all he wanted to do was scream at the walls every night in the quiet of his room because he wasn't in the other room pressed up against Sherlock. That's why he needed Jim Moriarty, because he was the only one capable of doing him this favour, he couldn't trust Mycroft for this, he knew how fond of his brother he really was and he knew he'd tell Sherlock after a short time. He knew Sherlock was going to suffer, he was going to cry, he was going to break, and he felt like the worst person in the whole world for doing that to the only man he had ever loved, but it was too hard, and it was the only way Sherlock would let him go without having to confess everything he had inside. He was a coward, he knew it, he knew very well how much of a bloody coward he was, and he felt miserable, more like a rat than a human being. A proper friend would never do this, a proper man would face it, but he.. he had been strong for too long, just that. Suddenly, the birds stopped singing and he felt the hair on the back of his neck standing up. He was coming. 

You saw him before he could ever notice you, he was sat on a bench, quietly staring at the landscape in front of him, his muscles were tense but his stare seemed relaxed, as if he was struggling with himself internally. You wouldn't be surprised if he suddenly got up and walked away, in fact, it would be normal, what wasn't normal was that Sherlock's supposed best friend was meeting you in one of the most hidden places in London, and the message he had sent you was far away from being normal. You knew he noticed you when his stare fell to his knees, and it was a matter of seconds before his head turned around to face you. His grey-ish dark blue eyes met yours and you felt a shiver travelling down your spine, but you didn't let it show as you played it cool and stayed there, hands in your pocket and a devilish smile painted on your face.

-Hello, Johnny boy – you greeted.

-Hi – he replied with a cough. 

You smile at him and go sit down beside him, you can sense how nervous he is, but you can't blame him, it must be hard to keep yourself together when you're sat with a man who tried to blow you up, you guess. 

-So... disappear – you start.

-Yes...

-And I'm guessing Sherlock mustn't know.

-No, of course he can't – he says with a trembling tone.

You know this isn't easy for him, and he must be truly desperate to seek your help. You feel a brief simpathy towards him, as if you understand him, and it nearly makes you sad but it goes away quickly, and you can go back to being your usual self.

-May I ask why would you do this? - you question him.

-You may ask, but I will not answer, you just need to know that I want to, and I'll regard you.

-What if you can't afford my price? 

-I'm sure as hell I can.

You can't help but smirk. He looks so confident now that it seems like the old John Watson is gone, like he's ready to be someone new as he pleases, but you know it's all a mask, and you want to tear it off his pretty face and get him to his weakest point, get out of him all the information you've been dying to get, but you know that's not how normal people work, normal people need to trust in someone to open up and tell their secrets, so that's what you plan to do. You're gonna make John trust you with all his heart, and when he does, you'll use him to satisfy your need of knowledge, that's the best plan, and it's gonna be easy, you'll find him a nice new home not far away from your own flat and you'll help him to settle up and start a new life without his Sherlock, you'll be his new best friend, he will suspect at first but it'll eventually go away, he'll think you also need a friend, of course, foolish of people to think everyone needs someone. Not you, no, definitely not you, maybe Sherlock did need John, but that's his weak point, and you got no weakness, and even less an ordinary man with nothing interesting to offer. No, feelings for another human will never be your weakness.


	2. Chapter 2

You two talk for a whole hour, he says he'd like to fake his death, because just disappearing would only make Sherlock look for him until he found him, he knew he'd never stop looking for him if he wasn't sure he'd never find him. You already know how to do everything that's needed to make John's fake death seem real, but you find yourself asking him to have dinner together to discuss it. Why did you do that? You're bored, and it's a great opportunity to have a nice, normal, chat with him. Maybe too soon. Yes, definitely too soon, and while you wait for him to give you an answer you already know he's going to turn you down. But no one turns you down, at least not without being punished for it.

-It's a lovely offer but.. I'd like to spend this last night with him – he says with a bit of shame.

Of course, he had to be so fucking sentimental. It's disgusting.

-Alright... - you reply as you stand up – I'll be in touch, remember what you have to do. 

He nods and you leave without saying goodbye. He stays there, just like when you first saw him, and you wish you could understand why he needs Sherlock so much, what could he ever have to offer? You know Sherlock better, yes, John may be with him on a daily basis, but your minds work in a similar way, you're both geniuses, and you know Sherlock would never be able to give John what he needs. He hasn't told you why he wants to do this, but he knows you know the reason, you know he's in love with Sherlock, and as any normal man would do, he needs Sherlock to be in love with him as well, but you very much doubt Sherlock has the capacity to be in love with someone, sure, he could love, and he probably loved John, but not in a sexual way, not even a really affectionate way, Sherlock would never be able to lay down on the sofa with him to spend a lazy Sunday watching TV, with his head on his chest, stroking his hair and having some occasional breaks for make out sessions. No, Sherlock would get bored of it, you would get bored as well, of the TV part, of course, you had no problem in making out with someone and having sex all day, but you couldn't actually imagine the same of Sherlock, he seemed so innocent about it all...  
You could call Seb again, make him come by and pick you up from the park, but you want to walk and clear your thoughts as you do so. Your flat is far away, but you walk fast and get there in less than an hour, with the last sun rays adorning the sky above you. It's a very beautiful sight, you like how the clouds turn into a golden or purple-ish colour as the sun descends, it looks like a painting, and you may not like many things in the world, but art is one of the things you completely adore, so it makes you feel whole staring at it, such a nice feeling at last...

John walks back home with his hands inside his pockets and his head down. He feels like garbage, and he doesn't think better of himself than that. How can he be so selfish... how can he hurt Sherlock in the only way he know he'll never be able to recover from?  
He gets to the 221B when it's already dark outside, and he finds Sherlock staring out the window while playing the violin, as usual. He's gonna miss this so much... he's gonna miss getting home to meet this man every night, every day, waking up and going on adventures with him, he's gonna miss his talent on the violin, and all his weird experiments in the kitchen. But mostly, he's gonna miss this, the way he stops playing the violin to turn around and greet him.

-Hello John – he says.

-Hi, Sherlock – John replies warmly.

-I didn't know if you were having dinner with someone, so I had it on my own, hope you don't mind – Sherlock acknowledges.

-No, I don't mind, I'm not even hungry, uh, and... sorry for not messaging you.

Sherlock looks down to meet his eyes and smiles at him reassuringly.

-It doesn't matter John, I'm not your father, you're not my kid.

John laughs with him but, deep inside, he feels exactly like a kid when he's near, he feels like a lost kid who needs protection from the world, and he needs Sherlock to protect him, so much that it scares him, and now he's reminded of why he's going to do what he planned with Moriarty. Why he needs to get away from Sherlock Holmes. He can't be a lost kid, Sherlock is never gonna find him and help him, even if he wanted to, he just doesn't know how.

-Lestrade messaged me, he says there's an interesting case we can work on tomorrow – Sherlock says staring blankly into the space.

«Perfect» John thinks, it'll be a good opportunity for him to carry out his death plan. He thinks of messaging Moriarty to let him know where he can send his sniper, but before he can even get his phone out his pocket, he receives a message from him:

''I'll send Seb to a building near the 221B, remember what I told you, stick to the plan and don't worry if Sherlock calls an ambulance, I know he will do, I'll be controlling them all.''

-Okay, I'll go with you – John replies.

-I wouldn't have expected anything other than that. I'm going to bed, goodnight John.

-Goodnight Sherlock.

John couldn't believe it was gonna be the last time he said that to him, and he couldn't stop the tears that appeared in his eyes as he saw the man he loved disappearing into his room. It was too much to handle, and he had to go to his own room and lock himself up to cry into his pillow in order not to make any noise that could wake Sherlock up and make him worry. He knew the other man would probably be still awake, thinking about... well, anything, Sherlock's mind was a precious wonder and he couldn't even get to imagine all the things that could be going on inside it.  
Of course, John couldn't imagine that Sherlock was, in fact, awake in the loneliness of his room, walking in circles around it, thinking about him.

You saw all of it from the screens in your office. You remember how you were bored once and put cameras around their flat to keep an eye on them, you usually came into the room and ate popcorn while watching them, as if it was a movie, and it kind of was one. Most of times you found it funny to stalk on them, especially on Sherlock, with his weird habits, but today you couldn't keep your eyes off John, poor little John crying in his room. He was broken, shattered, it was gonna be easy for you to prey on him, he couldn't be weaker, and once again you feel that twinge in your chest, because you've been broken before, you know what it feels like to be miserable. You hate this part of yourself, it's not a weakness at all, but it's an annoying reminder of the fact that you are able to feel, and feelings are so useless when someone lives like you. You think of the last person you killed, it was very long ago, lately you've been sending Seb to do the dirty jobs, you rather be in the office, taking calls and messages, stalking on people and having all sort of meetings with clients or potential enemies. You like to have a nice suit on all the time and unleash the business man rather than the monster inside you, you like to be in control of the situation, and you know very well that killing someone with your bare hands is a perfect example of losing it. You're a consulting criminal, not a killer, you just make people's darkest wishes come true. Maybe you're not that bad after all. People are bad by nature, or that's what you think, yes, maybe not everyone would dare to pull a trigger on somebody's head, but a lot of them want to get rid of someone, no matter the cost. And you're there for them, helping them over. Such a nice person, Jim, you're such a sweetheart. Always there for people who want to do wrong. You could stay up for longer, watch as Sherlock and John struggle in their last night together, but tomorrow will be an exciting day and you need to rest. Something tells you that little Holmes is suspicious of something, you can imagine he's wondering where was John, why he didn't tell him anything, why why why, always wondering why that funny mind of his. Yours didn't wonder so much, because you didn't need to wonder, you were sure of everything most of the time, perks of being Jim Moriarty. 

You wake up at the sound of the alarm in your phone and you go straight up to your office to see John and Sherlock having breakfast together. Lovely, if Sherlock wasn't such an idiot when it came to social terms, you would be seeing a cute couple kissing each other on the nose or something like that. Disgusting, again. You go have breakfast on your own, to a very fancy café that's just around the corner from your flat, one of your favourite places in London, and wait for Sebastian to send you the message that will confirm the mission has been done, when he does, you quickly stand up, leave a few pounds on your table and run to your car. You drive all the way to the hospital where you know they're taking John, and you're ready in the ambulance that will drive him to his new flat when the other one arrives there. It is done quickly and just when you're driving away, you see Sherlock stepping out of a cab and running into the hospital. Such a pity, he's definitely going to miss John, but today, he's starting a new life, a new life in which you will play a main role.


	3. Chapter 3

It's been a week, a whole week since you drove John Watson to his new flat, showed him around the urbanization and gave him the keys to his new car. You had spent a considerable amount of money to make it look real, gave him a new name, a new everything... and you quite liked how it looked. With his hair dyed black and his brand new suits, he seemed like a business man just like you, a little smaller, and, of course, less good-looking. You could have been nicer, not install cameras all around his house... but why would you? He turned you down for dinner, now you could have dinner as you watched him having his. He spent all the nights crying since he got there, you had seen it all from you screens and it was somehow amusing, how could he ever love Sherlock so much? That machine... even though he appeared to be really sad as well, you hadn't seen him for three days until he eventually showed up at Baker Street looking like one of his homeless men. You had never seen him in such a state before, with dirty old clothes and a stubble that kept all the dirt on his face, black marks under his eyes and his hair all messy. You could find out where he had been, but you didn't even need to ask anyone, it was clear, it wasn't a secret for you that Sherlock had some kind of bad influences, and one of them was a group of drug addicts that could've easily helped him with some toys to make his mind go crazy and forget about John's death for a moment. Poor little Holmes, so broken as well. You were having a lot of fun with this story, you couldn't remember spending so much time in your office and suddenly you were stuck there all day, all days. Not today though, no, today you have another thing in mind: it's time to pay John Watson a visit.  
You decide to dress up in a pair of black jeans and a white t-shirt to look as normal as possible, you didn't want to be Jim Moriarty today, just Jim. You stare at your own reflection in the mirror before heading out and, damn, you look nice, if you were John, you'd bang yourself. What the hell Jim? Stop thinking about these things for once, you're going to be a normal person welcoming another one to the neighbourhood. 

You get to John's flat to find out he isn't there, but you remember seeing him sat on the couch just before you left your home, and the car is in the garage so he can't be too far away, he probably went for a walk, either that or he's regretted this and has gone running all the way to Baker Street. Not likely. You wait for him sitting on the sofa and watching some crap on TV, it doesn't take him long to return home and you're pleased to see the look of surprise on his face when he enters the room.

-What the hell!? What are you doing here? How did you even get inside!? - he shouts at you.

This man is so funny, the way he's taken a step forwards and has his fist clenched, ready to defend himself, makes you chuckle, which makes him even more angry.

-Calm down Johnny, aren't you happy to see me? 

-Are you really asking if I am happy to see you? You? If I am happy to get home and find a psychopath sitting on my sofa? Really? - he says in disbelief.

-If I wanted to kill you, I would have done it last week, so I don't think there's any need to call me a psychopath now – you say pretending to be offended by his words – and, you see, technically, this sofa is mine as every item in this house, and the house itself, or did you think I had enough to buy all of this with the money you gave me?

-Well... I thought...

-Don't bother to think in my presence John, as you know, I'm better than you so leave that to me.

-Yeah, whatever, anyway what are you doing here?

-I wanted to visit you! I thought you might feel... lonely all by yourself. 

It's not a complete lie, of course you think he feels lonely without any other human around, but that's not what dragged you here. You're just curious to know more about him.

-I'm not lonely – he answers back.

-You're not a good liar John, I wonder how Sherlock didn't realise you were in love with him...

And that's what it takes to make John grab the edges of your t-shirt and lift you up against the wall.

-What the hell did you just say? - he spits. 

You smirk at him instead of giving an answer and he punches you in the face, which makes you laugh. You can see the confusion in his face as you taste the blood in your lips, and if it wasn't because you were sure he'd punch you again, you'd rip off his clothes right there and have rough sex against the same wall you're pinned up against. You know he didn't mean to turn you on, and you feel almost sorry for him because he doesn't know what he just did, but he knows that something is wrong, or at least, that something's not quite right because you're smiling as your lip bleeds and he's very close, too close to be good and you've been looking at his lips ever since he hit you. He looks at you in the eye before releasing you of his grip and you quickly re-adjust your clothes.

-I'm... I'm sorry I shouldn't have... - he apologises.

You know very well he's not really sorry, he's just scared, really scared, he doesn't know why you're looking at him that way and he probably thinks you're planning to murder him in his sleep, that's why he's apologising. You smile again and now you feel your lip burning, which makes your smile fade away and be replaced by a flinch.   
-I'll help you with that – John suddenly says pointing at your wound.

He has disappeared before you can say anything and he comes back with a first aid kit in his hand.

-Come with me – he orders.

You follow him to the bathroom, where he makes you sit down on a stool while he gets what he needs to cure you out of his kit. You wonder why he's doing this, is it because he's a doctor and he can't help it or is it because he... cares? Don't be a fool Jim, he wouldn't care about the man who tried to kill both him and his best friend. You stop thinking when you feel his hand on you shoulder, you look up and he examinates your wound with his gaze.

-You won't need stitches – he comments.

You stay quiet and nod, he grabs a small towel and presses it against your wound to stop the bleeding, even though it doesn't bleed as much anymore, after five minutes he removes it and then he grabs another one, this time he puts it under the water and uses it to clean your wound and your chin. The feeling of his fingers under the wet towel, gently touching your lips, makes you burn inside, but you're able to control yourself and play it cool until he finishes.

-You'd better put an ice on it, but anyway you'll be fine in a few days – he says.

-Do you have ice then?

-Of course, follow me.

Now you find yourself walking behind him to the kitchen, he gets you ice and puts it inside a cloth napkin. You do as he said and press it against your wound, he looks at you still confused, but now he seems curious about you as well.

-What? Do I have something on my face? - you ask upset.

-I'm just wondering why I bothered to help a criminal like you – he replies with a smirk.

Oh, so little John knows how to play this game.

-Because I'm an adorable criminal, obviously. 

Are you really flirting with John Watson? Yes. Definitely. He chuckles and you can't help but smile, because you know he will fall, everyone does, he's weak and he's a sucker for danger, and you represent that danger he needs in his life, with Sherlock out of the way, he'll eventually realise he needs you to satisfy that need.

-You wish – he says.

-Oh, come on! You can't deny it, if I didn't kill people for a living I would consider myself quite cute, don't you think so as well?

He looks at you as if he's checking you out and starts to laugh, but he doesn't say anything, he just leaves the room as if he's avoiding to answer your question. You know the answer, you know the effect you have on people and you know very well Sherlock isn't the only man John can be attracted to, no matter how many attempts of a girlfriend he's had, so you stand up, throw the napkin away and follow him again. He's sat on the sofa, casually checking his phone, and you sit down beside him, making him move to the other side. 

-You didn't answer my question – you complain.

He looks at you as if you were some kind of joke and he rolls his eyes as he smiles at you, but he goes back to his phone.

-If you don't answer, I'll take it as a yes – you warn him.

He stops doing whatever he was doing with his phone, puts it away and moves closer to you, he faces you with a serious stare and sighs before replying:

-If you're trying to make it sound as if I'm somehow attracted to you... well, I wasn't the one staring at my lips when I had you pinned up against that wall, was I?


	4. Chapter 4

Even though you hadn't been able to see your face, you were sure as hell that your cheeks turned red when he asked you that question. You remember how you stood up without saying a word, looked at him straight in the eye and then left the house, you remember how you had lost control that night, called up Sebastian and went out for a hunt. It had been a long time since you got your hands dirty, a very long time since you had held a gun and directly ended someone's life, you had missed the feeling it gave you, to pull the trigger, to hear the impact of the bullet against the skin and watch as the blood inundates the floor so slowly... but you didn't like the meaning of it, it was a reminder of the fact that you were human, that you had emotions and that they could overcome you. You should have ripped John Watson's clothes off in that very moment, then nothing would have happened, you'd still be in control of the situation, you always are, no matter what, you wanted to fuck him so why didn't you? It was a mistake, keeping that urge was a mistake and you knew that very well, you regretted it almost immediately and you had to kill an innocent man to calm yourself. You were an idiot, but not today, no, you'll come back to him, and he'll be waiting, you know he wanted it too, otherwise he wouldn't have asked that question, it was obvious, so obvious Jim, he was offering himself to you and you just left him. So impolite, you'll have to make up for it. 

It's been three days, but John can't seem to stop thinking about the way Jim Moriarty had stared at him, how his eyes turned darker than he'd ever seen them, he looked hungry, hungry for him. He wasn't so stupid, he was familiar with sex and he knew it when someone was turned on by him and that man surely was. He didn't understand why he left, in such a rush, when he let him know that he had noticed, didn't he want it? Didn't he want him? John wasn't sure himself if he had really wanted that, sure, Moriarty was a very attractive man, and he had been long enough without any kind of physical contact, so, on the one hand, he wanted him, on the other, he still loved Sherlock with every inch of his pained heart, and having sex with his greatest enemy didn't really sound like so much of a good idea. He isn't sure now, but he knows he wants it, he knows he won't stop him when the moment comes, and he knows Jim Moriarty won't be waiting forever, he'll get what he wants, and being what such a powerful man wanted sort of turned him on, so he's not surprised when he hears the frontdoor opening, and he already knows who's visiting him and what for.

You are back in John's flat, and this time you won't get out of it before you've owned him, before you've made him scream out your name, because you wanna hear that so badly you can barely greet him when you enter the room, and he knows, and he wants it too, but you like to play with your toys, there's no need to rush it. You sit down beside him and wait for him to say anything, it doesn't matter what, you're just making time.

-Have you come for another punch? - he asks you after a few minutes.

-Well, not that I complained the first time but... that's not really my thing.

-Okay then... want to go out for dinner? 

You almost laugh. 

-I invited you last week and you rejected me, I'm still hurt about it... - you reply.

-But you've come here so nicely dressed with that expensive suit... it would be a shame not to give it the right use, wouldn't it?

You look at yourself, he's right, you're in one of your black suits, wearing a white shirt and a silver tie and that might look too fancy. Why did you decide to wear a suit to visit him? He was already impressed by you, there was no need, but still...

-I like to dress nicely for any occasion, it's my thing John, I'm not expecting you to understand.

-Are you saying that I don't wear nice clothes?

-Yes, basically.

He laughs, and you stare at him with a smirk, you were being completely serious so you don't really get why he's laughing about it, you were insulting him in a way, and he's laughed at it. Nice. 

-Why didn't you send me out of London? - he asks suddenly.

Because you wanted him close, of course, but you can't tell him that, not yet.

-There was no need for it, this was easier – you lie.

-Don't you think it's also easier for Sherlock to find out? 

-I live around the corner, John, I know for sure that if Sherlock hasn't been able to find me here, he won't be able to find you either.

-But now I can't live a normal life, I can't get out of this place without being afraid of someone recognising me and going to tell him.

-I know where his men are placed, I'll show you places, places where you can go and be someone new, you will have a new life in your old city, which doesn't sound too bad, does it?

-Well, it doesn't but...

-Stop worrying Johnny, he's not going to find out unless you, or Mycroft, tell him, and the old brother won't say anything, even though you probably thought he would, or you wouldn't have come to me, am I right?

-You're right, yes. How are you so sure Mycroft wouldn't tell him? He cares, you know?

-I know he cares, but I also know what moves him, and believe me he wouldn't tell him, at least not for a few months anyway, enough for you to forget about that stupid thing of loving him.

-How would you know how many time it will take me?

He doesn't know, he can't imagine that you, a psychopath, know what love is, and that you know how bad it can fuck you up, that you also know how much time and what it takes to move on.

-I know many things, I'm a genius remember? - you joke. 

-Yeah whatever, let's go out for dinner, I know you want to.

You can't deny it, it's true, you want to go and have dinner with him, you don't exactly know why, but you agree and he excuses himself to go change into something more appropiate. You wait where you are for him to return, and when he does you are almost impressed, you would probably be if it wasn't because you chose that suit for him, and you definitely made the right choice.

-Do you like that suit? - you ask him.

-Yeah I do, it looks nice, fits me I think. 

-You're welcome then.

-Did you...?

-Yes, I did. 

-How did you know it would be the correct size?

-I'm a good observer Johnny.

He nods and smiles, you know he admires that, because he admired it in Sherlock and it's the same in you, even if you use it for worse purposes. John likes that of you, and he likes how you look in your black suit, just as you like how he looks in his grey one, that is tight for him just in the right places. He's not exactly hot, but there's just something about him that makes you want to claim him as yours, and you will do it no matter what it takes, but first: dinner.

-So where are you taking me? - you happily ask when you two get in the car.

-Well... now that you say it... I guess... I was hoping you would make that choice.

-Don't worry, of course I will, I wouldn't let you take me anywhere you know.

-I know some good places! - he complains. 

-Johnny don't get upset, we're in different positions, you're just starting to live my life.

-I'll never live your life.

-Oh let's forget about the fact I'm a little bit of a killer for a night, shall we?

-It's hard to do when I look at you and I'm reminded of the fact you tried to kill me!

You laugh, and he looks at you as if he hated you but you know he doesn't, not anymore, because he has found something he likes about you, maybe your confidence, your intelligence or the way you always seem to know what to say, as he's probably not used to that with Sherlock, because that poor man would never know what to say in social situations. Bad for him, but that's not a problem for you, you know very well how to treat people, how to handle any situation, and John likes that, he doesn't even know you for more than a week and he already knows that, he can feel it, you make him feel safe somehow, because you're a criminal but not towards him anymore, at least not tonight, and he feels good with you, even though it's so wrong.

You guide him to one of you favourite places in London, the most expensive restaurant you can think of, just to impress him, and he looks amazed all the way through dinner. You make small talk and he seems happy to finally be having a normal conversation with someone, even if it's with you, you don't get anything out of it, but it's a way to start earning his trust. When dinner ends, you are sure of how the night will go, how he will eventually fall, but just in case, you decide to take him out for a drink in a really fancy gay bar you visit frequently. You don't want to get drunk, but he buys you a drink and you accept it, and another one comes around, and another, and now you're both in the bathrooms, the music outside sounding low through the walls, and you've locked the door after making sure there was no one inside and he's waiting for you sitting on a sink, barely keeping himself from falling to the floor, and you're not in a much better state but you're good enough to walk over to him and he stands up, looking smaller than ever and it makes you feel some kind of way. You feel the blood going down and you press yourself against him, letting him feel how much he turns you on, how badly you need him, just to find out he's already got a boner of his own and suddenly his hands are on your butt and you can't help yourself. You lean in for a kiss, a rough and clumsy kiss because you're both too drunk to care, there are teeth and tongue and when he bites you, you smile and bite him back. His hands are now inside your pants, looking for a way to play with you but you won't let that happen, you're in control here so you grab his wrists and get them off while looking him deadly in the eye.

-Turn around – you command.

He doesn't say a word, he accepts and you put his trousers down. You thank yourself for being smart and bringing lube with you, otherwise you would've had to go all the way back home, and it would've been too much to handle, too much, your cock is throbbing at the anticipation and it's making you go crazy. You are going to penetrate him but something makes you stop, suddenly you worry about him and there's a question you've taken for granted but don't actually know.

-Johnny, have you ever...

-Been fucked? For god's sake Jim, what do you think? Go ahead.

You do as he says, getting a scream out of him, and finally you get what you wanted. 

You own John Watson.


	5. Chapter 5

Sherlock is alone in the 221B, playing some really soft compositions he wish John could be listening to right now. It's been more than a week since John died and he's still expecting him to come back, John can't be dead, that makes no sense, he hasn't even cried since then because he still can't believe it, he refuses to live in a world where John Watson doesn't exist, and so he pretends as if he had just left on holidays, it's easier that way. Nevertheless, he's never been sadder, he feels like something inside of him is missing, and he has to keep his mind busy all the time or he falls into bad habits to keep his mind off the thought of John being dead. No. He can't be dead. Sherlock doesn't believe in miracles, nor anything like that, but secretly he wishes for something to happen and take him back in time, take John back to him. He knows it's stupid, he saw him, he was dead, he's sent all his men to look for him and he's asked Mycroft about it. No one has seen him, and it's been longer than a week now. He should be sleeping, he needs it, but he isn't able to do it, his mind is constantly thinking of John, he can only escape by using drugs or working on a really interesting case, and there hasn't been any interesting case lately, so he's been locked up there all week, getting high and sleeping at late hours in the morning. He hasn't seen anybody in all that time, only the people who could give him the things he needed. He doesn't want to do it, he knows John would never want him to, but with him gone, it's the easiest thing to do... 

You're both on your way back home, it's nearly 3am and you had to call Seb because neither of you were in a good condition to drive. John is barely keeping his eyes open but you can't keep yours off him. Even though you had been extremely pleased with how he acted in the bathroom, screaming your name as you commanded him and sucking you so nicely, you still want more, he has that special something that was so hard to find. You were so blind... and to say that you had thought of Sherlock before him, so stupid. He's way better, he's easy to own, something Sherlock would never be, besides, the little Holmes could be extremely intelligent, no doubt about it, but he had no clue about what to do in these situations, you couldn't have fucked Sherlock Holmes against a dirty bathroom's wall and having him happy about it. But John Watson had been quite happy about it actually, so happy that he had cummed all over the wall and you had to throw water on it to make it look less... bad. John had been real fun, and for once in a long time, he was someone you could have again.

-Johnny – you call him.

-What is it? - he asks while yawning.

-Kiss me.

You can see Seb's face reflected on the rearview mirror of the car, and he doesn't look amused to hear that you got a new toy, you can see him smirking right before John's lips are on yours. He's a very rough kisser, and you absolutely love it so you let him have his way with you as he kisses you and it gets heated up, his hands are now travelling down your body and you can feel yourself getting way too turned on, but you control it by pushing him away. You're not going to fuck him now, in the car, in front of Seb. Not that you mind Seb's presence, but you're not in the mood for it. John doesn't say a word, he's probably not feeling himself due to the alcohol still running through his veins and the fact he's just being fucked by the criminal who once tried to kill him and is being driven to his new house by a sniper. He's very quiet and you wonder if he's thinking of anything at all or just staying there, staring out the window calmly, afraid of saying a word and ruining his life. Maybe he's still scared, maybe he's never been scared at all. You have so many questions... but you don't want to ask, you want to find out, it mustn't be so hard to make him open up about his thoughts and desires when you have already opened him in a different way...   
Lust filled all your senses and your mind couldn't think of anything apart from the different ways you could own John next round, so when Seb finally gets to his flat, you excuse yourself and go behind him, he accepts it, mostly because he's too drunk and tired to fight, but also because he wants the same as you. Round one wasn't enough, it wasn't even close to being enough.  
Even though you're kinda drunk and it's not your own flat, you remember perfectly well where John's bedroom is located, so as soon as you enter the house you take his hand and guide him while you kiss and bite his neck all the way there. You pull his tie bringing him closer to you and you feel your erection brushing against his between the fabric of your trousers. You're desperate to be inside him again so you get rid of the tie and rip off his shirt, he unbuttons his trousers and they slide down his legs and onto the floor. The sight of the lines that his cock has traced on his underwear makes you want to fuck him right where he stands, but you tease him by taking off your own shirt, unbuttoning it slowly under John's impatient gaze. When you finish doing so, you let it fall to the floor and then go up where John is, kissing him fiercely, biting his lips and pulling him closer to you, feeling the toxic heat coming from his body. You push him onto the bed and take off his underwear, unleashing his cock, and you give him a few strokes to make him even harder. 

-Jim, please... - he begs.

-Please? Please what Johnny? What do you want?

-I want you. Now. 

You get rid of your trousers and your underwear in a matter of seconds, keeping your eyes on his all through it and licking your lips seductively. His eyes are so dark he almost looks like a complete different person, but you guess yours aren't probably better. You start fingering him to stretch him and he moans loudly, it doesn't take you long to assure he's ready enough for you and you push yourself into him with a smooth move. He moans again and you smirk, you can't remember the last time you fucked someone while looking at their face, and you quite enjoy the sight now, seeing John's eyes closed and how he's biting his lip to try and keep quiet.

-Stop biting your lip Johnny, you shouldn't be ashamed of screaming my name if you feel like it.

He tries to laugh but he fails and it turns into another moan, you love that sound and you can't stop yourself from fucking him harder and harder just to hear it again and again. You're grunting now and John seems to like it, but it doesn't last long as you come with a loud and long moan and John does as well. You're both soaked in John's cum but you don't even care, you're too drunk and too relaxed to care about anything, so you just fall on the other side of the bed and cover yourself because you feel kinda cold even though you're sweating and you fall asleep right there, by another man's side for the first time in years.

You wake up with a horrible headache and all your muscles hurt, you can barely open your eyes, but when you do you almost fall out of the bed due to the shock of not recognising where you are, only for a few seconds, because then you remember, and you can't help but smile when you see John sleeping peacefully by your side. You're happy, you did not only get laid and had great sex but you also got what you had been wanting for so long, to own him. Now it was only gonna be easier to get to know him. You feel so happy you decide to prepare coffee for him as well, knowing that he'll probably wake up minutes after you leave the room. And he does, of course, you couldn't fail.

-What are you... - he tries to ask.

-I'm preparing coffee, thought you might want as well.

-Yes... yes, thank you.

-You're welcome Johnny, but don't get used – you say as you hand him a mug.

You sit beside him and you both drink in silence, you don't feel hungry at all but you know you need to eat something to keep you going throught the morning so you stand up and start opening up drawers. 

-What are you looking for? - John asks as if he's amused.

-Don't you have biscuits or something? 

-I do, right there – he answers pointing to the only drawer you hadn't opened.

-Oh, right. 

You get out a box and put it on the table. John is fast to get one and you wonder why he hadn't gotten them before if he was hungry, after all, it's his own house. You continue eating and drinking your coffee without saying a word, and you know that the only reason he's not talking is because he can't even put into words everything he wants to say, you can, because you already know what you're gonna do, what it's gonna happen, but you understand it's harder for him so you wait patiently until he dares to speak.

-Jim... about last night... - he starts.

-Did you like it? - you interrupt.

He chokes on his coffee and coughs.

-Well... yes, I did – he replies.

-That's it then.

-But I need to know... why?

-We were drunk, you're pretty nice and I'm super hot so we got horny, it's really easy John even you could get to understand it.

He rolls his eyes and you laugh at him, making him even more upset than he already was.

-Stop laughing! - he shouts – I need to know... is it gonna happen again?

-If I want... and I'll probably want so I'd pretty much say yes.

-What if I didn't want?

-Well I don't like to force people, but I know you'll want, you can't deny it, I can feel it.

He stays quiet as if he was thinking of an answer, but he can't seem to find one and he stays quiet for longer than you can handle so you take on the conversation.

-John, I like you – you confess - I don't mean it as in a sentimental way, don't even think so for a second, but I want to have you like last night again. The thing is, I'm demanding, and you'll have to please me you understand? I will want something and you'll do it, I promise I'm not going to hurt you in any way, I might get kinky sometimes but it's nothing serious. So if you want it, this is it, no boundaries, just casual sex whenever I want it, you understand? 

-I do – he says in a low voice, as if he was just trying to get in all the sudden information.

You wait for him to say something, anything, but once again you have to break the silence.

-So... deal? - you ask carefully.

-Deal.


	6. Chapter 6

You're lying on your bed on a very lazy Sunday afternoon, listening to music low enough so you can also hear the drops of rain hitting your window. It's been two weeks. Two weeks since you and John decided to keep your differences apart for the sake of having sex with each other, and you've been seeing him nearly every single night of them. He's been a really useful toy, very pleasing, it was incredible how willing to do everything you said he was. You weren't quite sure if it was because of who you are or just because he's got a submissive nature, either way he's so far the best lover you've ever had, but also, he's the first one in ages to stay by your side for so long, and the first one to ever stay knowing who you really are. You gave him a choice, he could've said no, reject you, sure you would have done something to punish him, but he knew for sure you wouldn't kill him, didn't he? No, you wouldn't, that was boring, killing someone just because he didn't accept to be your fuck buddy. You laugh to yourself just thinking about it, that'd be a whole new level of losing control. Meanwhile, you had stalked Sherlock quite a lot, it was really entertaining to see him struggle to even get out of bed. He was depressed because he thought his best friend was dead, he had terrible nights of insomnia, screaming and going crazy sinking deeper in his pain. Not that you stalked him for more than four nights, you had been with John the others and it got you horny as hell to imagine Sherlock crying as you pushed your cock deep inside the man he thought was dead. Lovely thought, lovely. Suddenly, your phone started to ring, and you wouldn't have bothered to get out of bed to pick it up if it wasn't because the ringtone was the one you attached to John's number.

-What is it that you want Johnny?

-Hey.. Jim, uhm... I was just about to prepare some tea and... I was wondering if... you.. would you like to come over?

What the hell was actually going on? Why would he offer you to have tea with him? 

-Couldn't you just message me for that?

-You would have ignored it.

He's actually right.

-I'll be there in half an hour.

If anyone had told you a month ago that you'd be having tea with John Watson you would have laughed right in their face, but there you are, getting into a pair of jeans and a slim fit t-shirt. You look at yourself in the mirror and notice your hair is a bit messy, but you don't mind it as it'll get bad anyway with the rain outside. You could've taken an umbrella, but you hated those things and you don't really mind the rain. You only regret not wearing more clothes when you feel it's not as warm outside as you thought it'd be. Whatever, John's flat is only about ten minutes away, time flies and you're there before you've had time to worry about getting wet.

You go inside with your own keys, which would be sort of creepy in any other occasion, but John seems to have got used to it, in fact, he even smiles at you when you walk into the room. You see the kettle already placed on the table, a jar of milk, two mugs and a plate with some biscuits. He's definitely falling into something more meaningful and deeper than just occasional sex, and even though you can't, you don't want to, share his feelings, you'll gladly accept this because, after all, there's a man behind the mask of Moriarty and this is nice, you can't deny it.

-Hello Johnny – you greet him.

-Hi Jim, sit down please.

You do as he says and wait for him to serve the tea, you feel the sudden urge to kiss him when he hands you a cup, but he could mistaken it for a sign of affection, even you have your own doubts about what that urge means but you keep it to yourself and simply smile at him.

-Thank you John.

-My pleasure.

You drink and eat in silence, staring at him as he seems to be lost in his thoughts, his gaze fixated on an imaginary point in space, out the window. He looks calm and relaxed, or he would to anyone who doesn't pay enough attention, you know it's all fake, he's not even close to being relaxed, his expression might give out that impression but, behind that, his mind is battling with himself. You want to know what it is, you're afraid of making him think that you care, even though it's what you wanted, to fool him into thinking that you'd care about him, things have somehow changed, if he thinks you care, things between you will change, that's inevitable.

-Johnny... - you whisper, loud enough for him to hear and attract his attention – what are you thinking about?

-Why do you care? - he replies.

-I don't, I just want to know.

-You're a clever man, what do you think it is?

Sherlock, of course.

-How would I possibly know what's going on inside that little brain of yours? 

He sighs, and you know he's gonna tell you, not because he trusts you but only because you're the only one who'll listen, the only one that's been there for him during these hard weeks, even if it was just for sex. You're his only support, and he's going to use you as a therapist. 

-It's just... I worry about him, you know? - he mumbles on the verge of crying – He's my best friend and I'm letting him grieve, and he's probably going back to bad habits...

-Oh Johnny dear he's absolutely going back to them, I know, I can assure you that.

He looks at you and for a moment it seems like he's going to stand up and punch you, but the rage in his gaze fades away and it's replaced by deep and simple sadness.

-I'm a terrible person – he states.

-Are you sure? I mean, if I had to say one of us is a bad person, well... I think I'd definitely win.

-I wouldn't say you're a person at all.

You laugh, and his face relaxes for a brief second, as if he wanted to do it as well. He could be right, but you're a person, you're being a person right now, having an actual conversation about things that have nothing to do with blackmailing or murder. You're having a chat about feelings for the first time in all your life, and for once in a long time you have no idea of what to say next. 

-You know, he... Sherlock... he's sad obviously but the things you wanted with him... he wouldn't have given to you, be glad at least you got yourself a sexy consulting criminal, instead of a not so sexy consulting detective. 

He laughs, but it's not a friendly laugh, it sounds more like a sarcastic one, and when his eyes are locked with yours again, you see the sarcasm shining bright inside them.

-There's a difference Jim, you see... I loved him, I do still love him, while I'd never, ever, not even in my wildest dreams, love someone like you.


	7. Chapter 7

Suddenly, your mind shuts off your surroundings and you're in another place, another room, with another person, back to the first time you ever loved someone, the first and the last. You remember him so well... Louis. His dark brown hair which was a little too long for your liking, but you liked it anyway, how tall he was in comparison to you, his beard and those piercing blue eyes... you perfectly remember the way he used to look at you, how sweetly he used to kiss you, how good he treated you during the time you spent together... he never actually said that he loved you, but you took it for granted, you like to believe that he did, as much as you did love him. You also remember the creaking sound of his neck when you broke it with your bare hands, right after you confessed who you really were, the man behind the mask: Jim Moriarty, the criminal mastermind, you did it because you were angry, you thought he loved you and that you could tell him anything, you wanted him to know and to understand that you'd never do anything bad to him, that you wanted him by your side to keep you as sane as possible... but he didn't understand, and the way he looked at you as if you were the most disgusting human being on earth will remain in your memory forever. The words John said were pretty similar to the ones he said to you back then ''I don't love you, Jim, and now I'm glad I have never done so because I'd never love someone like you'' those words hurt like nothing had ever hurt you before, and instead of crying like a normal person would have done, you just stood up and punched him. Hard. His nose instantly started to bleed and for the first time his eyes showed nothing but fear, he feared you and that made you feel powerful somehow, and there was no going back from there, you beated him down to the floor and once he was there, too pained to defend himself, you killed him. He wasn't the first person you killed, but he was the first you had cared about. 

It had been a long time since those memories occupied your mind, it was long ago when they stopped haunting you. At first, you used to kill every single person who had the unfortunate fate of spending a night with you. They reminded you of him, and you hated it, you couldn't stand it so you took their lives, luckily, not so many people wanted to be with you. All of a sudden, his memory faded away, and you stopped killing your lovers, they stopped bothering you to be only mere toys to play with when you were bored. And now there was John, the first one since Louis to spend more than a miserable night with you. And even though he's just reminded you of him, you don't want to kill him, but you do want to hurt him so you put yourself together and face him again.

-I don't want you to love me, Johnny boy, but maybe you don't love Sherlock as much as you say, after all, when you love someone you care about them, you don't fake your death and leave them alone to grieve, even less when it's someone like Sherlock who's getting high every single day to forget that you're gone. 

-How could you ever know what love is? - he says bitterly.

You chuckle.

-I know a lot about many things, John, you don't know me.

-I know that you're a psychopath and...

-Oh god don't be so boring! Always the same thing, I know! I know what I am, but there are more traits of my personality behind that, not that you care or that I'd care to tell you but, believe me, otherwise you would be already choking on your own blood.

He looks at you with a mix of confusion and fear, he probably wants to ask about it, it's what people do, he's curious to know what's behind the mask but he knows you won't tell him after what he said. Apart from that, he's scared of your words, which he interpreted as a warning, and for a brief moment you think you see regret in his eyes as well. He regrets faking his death, he regrets doing this and hurting Sherlock, you've got what you wanted. You're on your way to exit the room when you hear him mumbling.

-Is he... is he really bad? - he asks.

You consider not answering, keep walking and just leave him there, but something makes you turn around and step closer to him.

-He is back to old habits, you know... Mycroft has probably tried to talk him out of it – you reply.

-He would never listen to Mycroft.

-I know, but the big brother isn't stupid, he's probably also taken away the drugs, made it harder for him to find them, whatever, I don't really care about it.

-You know a lot for someone who doesn't care.

-The world's been boring lately, no one wants to commit a crime so I don't have interesting clients and I get bored, I have to do something.

He nods slowly, as if he was just trying to assume the fact that you have been watching them when you were bored since god knows when. He opens his mouth to talk but he doesn't say a word. You wait just in case he changes his mind, but he remains in silence, looking far away from being okay. 

You walk up to him and take his hand, making him stand up and be in front of you, just a little bit lower, he doesn't even move when your lips touch his, and he gives in to the kiss like a machine, which upsets you to the point of scratching his chest to make him react. But you get nothing. 

You grunt unsatisfied and decide to leave, showing a smug smile when you see the red marks your nails left on his pale skin, starting under his neck and disappearing under his t-shirt.

-Well then, I shall leave, see you soon Johnny. 

-Goodbye Jim.

You step outside and notice that the rain has stopped, but the clouds remain there with the threat of more rain to come, still... you don't feel like going back home, but you don't want to walk around either, not on such a weird day, besides, you're still wet from before. You walk back home and change clothes, you put on a suit, a shirt and a tie. All black, simple, elegant, classy... just like you know he likes it. You slick you hair back and shave off all your facial hair before you leave your house again, this time, after getting a car to pick you up and drive you somewhere you know very well.

It's time to pay Mycroft Holmes a visit.


	8. Chapter 8

You get to the abandoned place where all your meetings take place and he’s already standing there. His silhouette is unmistakable, the umbrella doesn’t lie, he got all the lights behind him to add the dramatic effect. Oh how you like his style! He’s so different from his little brother yet so similar. They’re both extremely intelligent, probably the most intelligent people you’ve ever met, and they both hate you dearly. Yet Mycroft Holmes is such a cold man… he’s even colder than you. It’s not the same, of course, he’s not a psychopath and all that but deep inside he would ignore things you just wouldn’t be able to. You still felt a complex variety of emotions towards a lot of things, but Mycroft could see his best friend die and still feel nothing. Well, that would be if he was capable of such a thing as having friends. You knew for sure he felt somehow for Sherlock. He cared. But he would never show it, and that was a weakness itself. Poor old Holmes, even more lost in the world than yourself, that’s probably the link that drags you two together. 

-Good evening Jim. – he greets, ever so polite. 

-Evening, Mycroft. – you say following the politeness. 

There are no chairs around, nowhere to sit, he likes to be in that dominant position in front of you always. You still find it annoying, but you know those were the rules and you wouldn’t dare to lose this advantage for something as childish as demanding a seat.

-About time that you came here, don’t you think? – he asks, no change in his expression.

-Oh well, I understand your urge to see me but you know I’ve been extremely busy!

-If by ‘busy’ you mean having sex with John Watson, who’s also faking his death on a sweet escape near you, then yes, you’ve been very busy indeed.

-We both know the crime rate has been pretty low lately. So damn boring! 

-Only you’d call it boring – he says, this time flashing a one-second smile – or maybe someone else would as well.

-Oh, your little brother. He’s pretty bored lately, maybe I should kill someone to entertain him! 

Mycroft’s face turns serious and you laugh, it doesn’t actually bother him as you very well know. He would probably even consider it as a good game to keep Sherlock’s mind away from the drugs and the pain, but his values blind him. Useless thing, morality. 

-I wanted to talk about the John Watson case… - he comments, nonchalantly. 

-What’s the case exactly? – you play fool to annoy him, but he’s holding back pretty damn well.

-You know, I’m going to respect his decision but if it gets too much, I’ll have to tell him. He needs to know, he’s killing himself… 

Oh, there it is. Sentiment. Towards his brother as you had always known. 

-And why do you warn me about that? – you ask, this time actually interested.

-He will think it’s your fault, he’ll hunt you down and he won’t stop until one of you is dead.

-I appreciate your concern, dear Holmes, but it doesn’t scare me. If he’s looking for death, he will find it, not in the way he wants but still…

He plays with the handle of the umbrella. He’s clearly nervous now. You can’t repress the smile that crosses your face. Mycroft Holmes might be a genius but he would give all that brain up for his careless, sociopath, suicidal, little brother. 

-I came to offer you a deal…

-I’m not interested – you reply quickly, interrupting him, and take a few steps until you’re both only a few centimeters away from each other. – John is fine, I won’t do any harm to him… if only a sore arsehole. Tell Sherlock if you’d like, but be sure you also tell him that it was his precious John who decided to fake his death and come with me. I didn’t put a gun to his head, I didn’t threat him, he came to me in the first place. 

He actually impresses you by leaning down and putting his mouth against your ear, you have to repress the shiver coming down your spine.

-I’ll let you have fun for some more time – he whispers – but if you touch Sherlock, you’re dead.

The message is clear. He then walks away from you, shaking his umbrella and not looking back to say goodbye. You hear the engine of his car outside the door and soon enough the man is gone. Would you ever dare to actually kill Sherlock? Why not? It would make for such a beautiful headline: Criminal mastermind kills famous detective. You imagine how it would be, pointing a gun against Sherlock’s neck and pulling the trigger, watch his blood splashing on the wall, onto the floor as he fell to the ground. Or maybe not using a gun at all, killing him slowly, being able to witness the fear and desolation in his eyes from knowing he had been defeated, knowing that his intelligence had been surpassed… and then there is his love towards John. You lick your lips at the thought of telling young Holmes how it feels like to fuck his best friend, right before ending his life. John… John would probably never forgive you if you did, but not that you care. If the situation required it, they could both dramatically die. Your life would be endangered if you stayed in London, but you could move as well. Mycroft wouldn’t be able to follow you outside the UK, and even if he sent a worldwide alert you still would have places to hide. He had underestimated you in a way, desperation did that to people, even people like him. As soon as he lost the icy personality he lost the battle, caring was an awful disadvantage. You almost feel sorry for him, Mycroft is your enemy but you admire the man, his mind, his power…  
After all, the Holmes brothers are the best nemesis one could ask for.


	9. Chapter 9

John is in his flat, Jim’s scratches on his chest still burning under his shirt even though it’s been around an hour since he was gone. Of course it was a psychological reaction, he didn’t have the marks still there, but he could feel them as though the man had just done it. He could feel his lips on his, he could feel his eyes haunting him, all his body was in tension, afraid of the criminal inside his lover coming out against him. There was also the thought of Sherlock, his best friend, his most beloved person in the world, the love of his life. He was so sure of it when he decided to fake his death and ask Jim Moriarty for help… but now, now nothing’s ever so clear. If he loves Sherlock, why is he frequently having sex with his worst enemy? Why does he find himself thinking of the pyschopath at late hours in the night whenever he hasn’t been around for a shag? If he really loved Sherlock he wouldn’t be letting him drug himself to death, if he really loved Sherlock he would go back to him, without a word, leave Jim and everything he’s done in these weeks behind, as thought it never happened, explain it all to Sherlock… would he ever understand? He probably wouldn’t, he would never risk that, and since he can’t go back in time nor go back to Baker Street without a proper explanation, he can’t escape from this.

Days go by and you don’t go back to John’s house, instead, you start planning something fun. There’s been a murder in London, one that Sherlock has found quite appealing, and so have you. It’s nothing common, a man has been tied up to a tree, a surgeon was practised on him to put an explosive in his belly, apparently. It hasn’t blown all of him up, it was a little thing, nothing too fancy, an amateur game or maybe someone who knew exactly what he was doing and wanted the police to find exactly what they found: a head and feet chained to the wood while the rest of the body was a mess of melted skin. It was so beautifully done… so pretty. Beautiful murder at last. Sherlock’s first thought was you, of course, so predictable, but since he knew it would be impossible to find you and, after all, you have been pretty calmed lately, there was no reason to investigate further on that path and let it be. You were glad, you want to know who it has been as well, but the young Holmes doesn’t seem to be able to find who’s guilty. Such a shame. To make it funnier, you decide to repeat the process, sending one of your men to practise the same kind of thing to a chosen victim, another park, another tree, same explosive, same method. Sherlock doesn’t doubt it for a second: it’s got to be the same person. You laugh at how easy it is to fool him, but not long after your own crime is done, the detective finds a woman guily for the first one who denies killing them both, Lestrade doesn’t believe her, it’s obvious for him that the killer is the same in both cases, but Sherlock experiences a hint of doubt. You’re sure his mind is back on you, so you message him, you don’t even know why, you want to see him, talk to him, enjoy how he perfectly knows he can’t do anything to you even if you tell him face to face that you’re responsible for that murder. You know he’ll go to your meeting alone, as you’ve asked him to, he’s so willing to play at any game right now that it could even be seen as boring, but nothing is ever boring with him.

You prepare yourself for the meeting, putting on the same outfit you wore at the pool that night, the first time you had contact with John… John, you will pay him a visit before meeting Sherlock, he won’t know it, you’ll fuck him mercilessly and then meet the man he’s in love with, it sounds perfect.   
You forget your keys so you have to actually knock on the door, he opens after a few minutes, dressed in old sweatpants and a black tee with short sleeves. He looks as though he hasn’t shaved since your last meeting and the beard looks delicious on him. He instantly knows you’re preying on him so he opens the door and gives himself easily to you, he doesn’t even offer you tea, he walks to his room knowing you’ll follow, you don’t have to ask, it’s given, that was your deal after all. You imagine Sherlock’s face if you were to ever tell him about this as you take off John’s clothes and make him face the wall.

-Are you gonna be a good boy, Johnny? Are you going to scream daddy’s name?

-You’ll have to do it good then.

-When have I ever done it bad? 

With that last question that’s left unanswered you thrust inside him and make him cry out in pain for the unexpected feeling. You forgot to stretch him before, such a pity, you laugh at his desperate begs for mercy since it’s hurting him, but he stops after a minute, when his body gets used to it and enjoys it rather than reject it. You keep imagining his face if you came back to tell him that you’ve killed Sherlock, you’re not going to, but just the thought of it makes you so high… stupid Sherlock, why can’t he just think of these things to make himself happy, wank over solving a crime or something. He would probably date himself if he had the chance, but John is unable to see it, so you thrust harder and harder, to make your lover realies how wrong he is.

-Do you think Sherlock would be able to do this, John? – you ask as you keep fucking him – Do you think he could give you this pleasure? That he would ever think of doing so?

-I don’t fucking care about Sherlock right now, Jim, just keep doing that. 

You smirk, that was what you were expecting to hear, he can’t even remember the man he supposedly loves while he’s being fucked by his nemesis. How lovely. Such a loyal man. You finish before he does and for the first time you take him in your hand to make him cum, with a loud grunt, but not screaming your name as you had asked, to what you pull his hair and bite his neck hard, that way he finally yells ‘’Jim!’’ followed by ‘’what the fuck are you doing?’’, but your name at last. You go to the bathroom to clean yourself and put back your trousers and blazer, your hair is a little bit messy so you get a bit of water in your hands to slightly style it. You look fine as hell, thinking about it, you would date yourself too if you had the chance, after all, no one would understand you better than yourself. 

-Where are you going? – John asks as you head out of the room.

You turn around to find him still naked, laying on the bed as though he’s waiting for another round.

-I’ve got stuff to do, I’m a busy business man.

-You’re a criminal, therefore you can only mean there’s been a crime that requires your attention?

-You read the papers, you know what’s happened.

He stops to think for a moment before his face lights up with the solution.

-That murder… the man with an explosive inside? 

-That one, exactly. Very clever, Johnny. 

-So you’re behind it – he assumes with a disgusted frown. 

-Believe it or not, I’m not! Your precious love has found someone guilty, so I’m going to hire her for me! Such a creative girl… 

-You are a monster. 

You laugh and walk the distance separating you from him, getting on top and kissing him hard.

-I may be a monster, but you seem to quite enjoy it, don’t you? Goodbye Johnny, I might come back later, to help you with that – you add as you get up, pointing to his erection. 

The man blushes and doesn’t say a word as you disappear from the room. Seb is already waiting outside to take you to the place you’re meeting Sherlock. You arrive to the roof earlier than him and wait laying on the edge of the building, unafraid to fall, you know you won’t. It takes around five minutes for you to hear his footsteps on the metal stairs that lead the way up there and you sit up to greet him as soon as he appears. 

-Sherlock, at last! I was starting to think you wouldn’t show up, I was so hurt… 

-Not interested, what do you want? 

-Oh, nothing at all, just wanted to see you. Can’t a consulting criminal meet his favourite consulting detective on a roof to watch the sunset? Should’ve brought some snacks, silly me. 

Sherlock sighs and you smirk, he’s having none of it and you don’t even know why you called him up here but you’re glad you did because it’s a beautiful sight to see him so lost, so broken. 

-You did it, the second murder.

-I wanted to check if you still are capable of basic logic. 

-Why wouldn’t I? – he asks as though he’s annoyed at such an obvious thing.

-You know, with all that John Watson thing… 

-Why would it affect me? 

-Oh, right, he didn’t matter, did he?

-He was my flatmate, that’s it, everybody dies. 

-So why did you fall back into drugs then? 

His face completely changes and for a brief second he seems to be speechless before he gets himself back together.

-I never fell out of them. 

-Sure, anyway, what are you gonna do now that you know it’s me behind the second murder?

-We both know there’s nothing I can do.

-We both know you could have called Mycroft, Lestrade, anyone to catch me here tonight. But you didn’t, because you needed that murder to happen, you need me!

-What for? You would get away with it anyway, I just needed to know I wasn’t wrong, it was you, that’s all I need to know.

-Well then, you’re boring tonight, I shall leave for more interesting things. I promise to bring you something entertaining soon.

He doesn’t say anything, just looks at you with indiference and lets you walk past him to leave the roof. He stays there, staring at the sunset, probably thinking of John, and where on Earth he can be, just as you leave with the thought of going back to his flat again. He doesn’t belive that John is dead, he’s smarter than that, but he couldn’t even think, not for a second, where his best friend really is spending his days. It’ll be a pleasure to let him know, eventually.


	10. Chapter 10

You go back to John’s flat as you promised, not because you promised, obviously, but because you want to tell him, want to witness the worry in his eyes, want to check how much he actually cares… or not. You got an idea in mind to make him forget Sherlock completely, easier and faster than by just casually dropping by his house and having sex: asking him to move with you. If he takes the offer, it’ll be much easier to keep his mind busy with other things. Not that you can completely trust him, but Seb can keep an eye on him while you’re away, and the man won’t dare to hurt you, well, you can’t be actually sure of that, but something tells you that he won’t, and you trust yourself more than anything else in the world.

-Hello Johnny boy! – You sing as you enter his house and go straight to the sofa on which you literally jump.

-You seem happy, is the crime rate pleasing you lately? – He asks as he takes the place next to you.

-Not at all, actually, pretty boring. I’ve got different reasons to be happy.

-Oh, you can get happy about things? I’m amazed. 

-Come on Johnny don’t be like that! – You pout – The thing is, I just met someone… name’s Sherlock Holmes, maybe you know him too! 

John freezes in his place for a brief second but puts himself back together quickly, probably hoping you haven’t noticed, but you have and you can’t help but smirk at it.

-Why did you… you didn’t do anything to him, right? – he asks clearly worried.

-Nah, I just wanted to talk to little Holmes, check on him, he’s good it seems. Said that your death didn’t affect him, you know, the normal things sociopaths do.

You can easily see his eyes turning dark, covered in rage and pain. It’s not that he believes it, of course, he knows as well as you do that Sherlock cares, it’s the mere act of saying otherwise that’s driven him mad. He’s hurt by Sherlock’s words even if he knows he didn’t mean it, but it’s the fact that he doesn’t question them, that he trusts in that you’re telling him the truth, that makes you warm inside. He’s starting to trust you, whether he wants it or not, and it feels fantastic.

-Did he tell you anything else? – he asks pretending as though he wasn’t feeling anything.

-Sherlock? – you reply – No, no, of course not, he never says anything if it’s not to show how clever he is, I’m sure you know that better than me! 

-Actually, he talked to me about things other than his intellect. 

-And you say that you weren’t special to him!

-I wasn’t special to him! – he yells, losing it for a moment before he puts himself back together – We were just friends, he loved me as his friend.

-Isn’t that special enough? I mean, being dear Sherly… you were his only friend.

-Well, there were also Lestrade and…  
-Yes, yes, yes. Old bore. Sure they are his friends but you know that they don’t mean half as much to him as you do, why can’t you just accept it?

-Why are you even talking about it with me?! 

-I told you, Johnny boy, I know more about these things that you could ever imagine. 

He stays in silence for a moment and, for some unknown reason, you reach out for his face and caress his cheek tenderly, then losing your hand in the waves of his hair. 

-Listen here, – you whisper staring directly into his deep blue eyes – I’m not as much as a machine as you think I am, true, I might be a bad person, I’m behind all kind of crimes all around the globe and I’m responsible for a good bunch of murders, but that’s just my job. Apart from all that, I’m a human being, with some seriously wrong hobbies but human after all. You can talk to me, I’m not your enemy anymore. 

He shivers but he doesn’t pull away from your touch, instead covers your hand with his and leans in to kiss you, to which you immediately answer back returning the kiss in a more passionate way. You are not sure why you did what you did, but the thought of John trusting in you and, maybe, who knows, even loving you, is too good to let go. Why is it good? You could never love him back, what would it be for? Ah, yes, feeling powerful. It’s been so long since the last time someone loved you… well, it’s been forever. No one has ever loved you, and you long for someone who loves you because you know, you know how it is to love someone, how dumb and reckless and blind you become, and having John like that would be more than good. Yes, you have to make John Watson fall in love with you. It’s going to be great fun, and the first step shall be exactly what you came to do.

-Johnny… I’ve been thinking about it for a while now and… would you like to come live with me?

-Live with you? – he replies shocked – As in moving into your flat? 

-Yes, Johnny, obviously – you grunt exasperated. 

-Why are you even offering me that?

-I don’t know, I thought you might be bored, all alone in here… besides, it’d be lovely to have a pet around the house, it feels too empty lately.

-Oh so you want me to live with you because you want to have me there – he assumes with a smug smile plastered on his face.

You don’t want to give out the wrong impression, but then again, if you want to make him fall for you, you must be nice and show the same interest for him.

-Yes, I’d like that very much, it’ll be fuuuuuuuun! 

-Sherlock must have given you some of his stuff for you to come in here like that, but I guess… it’s stupid to live apart since we’re seeing each other nearly every day. 

You chuckle in happiness and he looks at you as though you were from another planet, but you’re feeling too good to care, you succeeded, now it was just a matter of time.

-I’ll ask Seb to move your things to my place, but for now, let’s go, I can’t wait to show you around!

You walk to your house since you live just around the corner, you still have that hint of doubt about him telling anyone but you brush it off as you get inside your flat, you greet Sebastian, who’s keeping his guard at the door and explain it to him, his expression doesn’t change at all, he’s well trained, but his eyes betray him and you know he’s not as confident as you are, but he accepts it, he doesn’t have any other choice, and disappears in direction to John’s flat.

-Well well then, - you sing as you open the door and turn on the lights – welcome to the most dangerous criminal’s flat, my dear Johnny boy! 

He takes a look around, amazed by everything his eyes are witnessing. The white walls and the expensive paintings covering it, which he probably wonders if you’ve stolen but doesn’t even attempt to ask, the black floor which is probably more shinny than everything he’s seen before, and the statue just in the middle of the hall. It’s the most impressive room, alongside the living and the dining room, you don’t invite anyone over but you want it that way just in case, and it’s finally paid off. He then steps into the room next door, the kitchen is a modern one, the furniture is red this time and the walls are black to make a strong contrast. He admires every corner of it and then goes to the diner, its walls painted white again this time, with black furniture and some more paintings. 

-This is… well... it’s amazing Jim – he murmurs as he walks around. 

-And you still haven’t seen it all! – you reply full of pride – Follow me.

You take his hand leading him into the living room and he stares at the giant screen on the right wall. This room is one you’re quite proud of, the sofas are white leather and there are two, placed with the back of them against each other, one staring at the fireplace and the other one at the screen. Depending on the mood, you would use one or the other to chill out, and John seemed to like the idea as he touched the material and sat on the one staring at the fireplace to admire his surroundings. These walls are now light grey in exception of the fireplace, which repeats the black, and the floor is dark grey wood. You couldn’t help yourself, black and white were the most elegant colours! After that, you make John get up and lead him upstairs to your room, the only different place in the house alongside the studio, where you’re not taking him just yet. It’s a simple room, since everything you need is located in the studio, its walls are painted in dark blue and purple, all the furniture is black and the blanket and sheets on your bed are simple black and grey. There’s a door leading to a dressing room to which John looks but doesn’t dare to open, even though he’s probably wondering what’s behind. You’ve got bookshelves full of all sort of books, you’ve read them all, and you stare proudly at them recalling the stories hidden inside their pages. John is the most amazed with this one room it seems, being it the most personal one, he’s probably making up all kind of theories in his mind in relation to your personality based on the colour of the walls or the books on the shelves.

-Like what you see? – you ask embracing him from behind and kissing his neck playfully.

-It’s pretty damn nice, yes – he replies turning around to face you and getting on his tiptoes to kiss you. – I guess we’re sleeping together, uh? 

You chuckle, you can think of many things but sleeping with John in this exact moment, but, of course, the answer is yes, you’ll sleep together. Together. It doesn’t sound too bad. It almost sounds good.

-I wasn’t thinking of sleeping right now, Johnny…

-Neither was I, Jim…

Your lips are sealed again in a heated kiss as you take a few steps pushing him onto the mattress. He falls grabbing your shirt in the process and so you’re laying on top of him at the end of the bed. You lick your way from his collarbone to his jawline making him growl and kissing him hard right after. You can feel how his arousing grows and you can’t stop smirking as you rip off his clothes, his hands are now a lot more daring that the first times ‘round and you can feel yourself getting weak as they roam your body with a delicious mix of strength and sweetness. It’s the first time you’re gonna have sex with anyone on this bed, in your house, the first time you’re going to be waking up to that same person under your own sheets. Sure, you’ve slept with John at his place before, but somehow this is different and it makes your heart tingle in a funny way you’re not quite used to, but what does it matter anyway when you’ve got John naked under you? You stop thinking letting your head lose itself in the heat of the moment as you kiss and bite his lips hard and start thrusting him at a pace you know you’re both well used to. You love to see the change in his expression when you hit the right spot, or when you don’t and it’s too hard and it hurts him, you adore to see how his eyes shut and how he bites his lips not to make any noise even though you always tell him not to do it. He’s not a shy lover, yet he’s clearly not familiar with being loud in bed. You’ve got to change that. You want to hear him, every little sound, every grunt, every moan that escapes his lips should be like music to your ears, it’s a shame he’s denying you the pleasure of listening to it. You bite hard onto his shoulder to make him grumble, you laugh satisfied and bite his ear to make him shiver. It doesn’t take you long to cum with a loud moan, being followed by him just seconds after you do so. 

He gets up and asks you where the bathroom is, you tell him with a grunt because you’re finding yourself tired as fuck and he leaves without a word. You follow making a great effort to get out of bed and when you return you see the dressing room’s door open and find him inside staring at the clothes.

-What is it that you’re doing there without my permission? 

He quivers at the sound but relaxes immediately when he finds no sign of anger in your eyes.

-I was just… could you lend me something to sleep in?

Oh, right. Probably Seb’s already brought everything from his house but he obviously didn’t dare to interrupt you. You could tell him to go downstairs where he would find his clothes but the idea of seeing him in your own is strangely appealing so you get out some old shorts and a basic white tee and stare as he gets in them and smiles at you shyly. You don’t like wearing clothes to sleep, so you stay in just your pants and get in the bed patting on the other side, as an invitation for John to join you. He does, even though he’s clearly unsure of it, and lies on his side with his back facing you. You’re okay with that, obviously he’ll change his mind and eventually he’ll only want to sleep with his arms around you. You’re going to make him want to.


	11. Chapter 11

John wakes up first, feeling strange as he immediately remembers where he is and what he’s done. He stares at the other side of the bed where Jim Moriarty sleeps peacefully and he wonders how many people have been able to see that throughout all his life: probably none. He’s aware of the special treatment that the criminal mastermind is giving him, just as he’s aware of the fact that he could so easily kill him as he sleeps, any morning, any night, at any moment, he is able to kill Moriarty, end his reign of crime and yet… he doesn’t want to, he can’t even get to imagine it. It’s even selfish of him, but there’s nothing he can do to change it, he’s got to know the man behind the mask a little and he likes what he’s found, he likes what he sees at this very moment and he smiles sweetly at the man laying next to him, even though he can’t see him, especially because he can’t. 

He gets up careful not to wake his lover and he goes directly to the bathroom to wash his face. He stares at his reflection in the mirror for a while, he recognises himself easily, and at the same time he doesn’t recognise himself at all. Is that really him standing there? He’s not quite sure he’s the same John Watson that used to share a flat with Sherlock Holmes, the same who used to track down Moriarty hoping to get him and end him right there. No, that’s not him anymore, because he’s now the John Watson that shares a flat with Jim Moriarty and tries hard to ignore the fact that Sherlock Holmes was ever his best friend, trying to erase him from his mind and his heart. He shall get used to it, eventually, and hopefully there’ll be no mark of his life with Sherlock left, if just a memory. Or that’s what he tells himself, deep inside he knows he’ll never forget the way that man made him feel, he misses him every single day and there’s no night he wouldn’t think of him. Excepting last night, he thinks, last night he didn’t even remember, he didn’t even care. He gets out of the bathroom headed to the kitchen, but he gets distracted by his surroundings, the many doors in the way leading to, probably, more rooms. He wonders why there are so many rooms if Jim lives alone, but then again he guesses rich people like to have a lot of everything. He recognises some of the paintings hanging on the walls and he can’t help but smile, the man’s got a great taste for art even if he seems so dehumanized. He gets to the kitchen to find Sebastian inside, sat at the table with a cup of coffee and staring out into space. He doesn’t know whether to go inside and ignore him or greet him and ask if he can cook himself something for breakfast, luckily for him, Jim has woken up and appears from behind him already dressed with a pair of black tight jeans and a white shirt.

-Good morning Johnny boy! – he greets him giving him a kiss on the cheek and walking past him – Seb – he adds with a nod at the man, who returns the nod and stands up to leave but is interrupted by his boss, who whispers something in his ear making the man stare at John before walking up to him.

-I’m Sebastian Moran – he announces – I believe we hadn’t been introduced. 

-No, we hadn’t – John replies shaking the hand that he has been offered – I’m John Watson, but I believe you already knew that.

This makes the sniper chuckle and John smiles at him. He’s smiling at an ex-soldier that now dedicates his life to assassinate people under the command of Jim Moriarty, just lovely. However, he sees a simple man, a man like him, even though he’s gone to the bad side he looks as though they could have many things in common, as the man’s personality is probably more similar to his than Jim’s. He excuses himself out of the room, probably the order that Jim had given, and they’re left alone again.

-I’m gonna make us breakfast – Jim acknowledges – I’ve told Seb to bring your things up to the room next door to mine, it’s got a closet big enough for everything. You should go up and get dressed with something appropriate while I do this, you can organise everything later.

John smiles at the thought of Jim making breakfast for him and the man looks at him confused, but he follows his command and disappears out of the kitchen to his room, he enters it not expecting a fully equiped space inside. It’s got a white desk with a rather expensive computer on it, the chair is covered with black leather and the bed, which he doesn’t understand since Jim wants them to sleep together, is already made, also white. He notices how every item is white but the rest of the room, floor and walls, is black. The closet that he mentioned is bigger than the one he had back at his flat, and there are empty bookshelves waiting to be filled with his own books. He wants to put everything in its place as soon as possible, but he remembers what Jim said so he limites to getting dressed and goes back to the kitchen, where the table is already set for two with a rather pleasing plate of eggs and toasts accompanied with jam. 

-You should get a shower after this – Jim says without staring up from his phone. 

-I would’ve had it already but since you told me to come back immediately after getting dressed… which I don’t understand, why did I have to get dressed if I was already dressed?

He chuckles and puts away his phone to look up at him, biting his lower lip and studying his expression for god knows what. 

-You see me? I’m not wearing what I wore to sleep, it’s only fair that you are properly dressed too.

-Well that’s because you slept with nothing on! – he complains with a grunt as he sits.

The criminal mastermind laughs and throws himself onto John for a deep kiss before sitting to have breakfast. John is utterly confused about everything that’s happening, it’s unbelievable and it can’t possibly be happening to him. He’s not eating eggs cooked by Jim Moriarty, there’s no way that could happen, there’s no way that’s him. He feels suddenly scared, he doesn’t know why but he knows that Jim has noticed, so as soon as he finishes his food he quickly excuses himself for the shower seeking for a quiet place to put his thoughts in order, leaving Jim alone to make up any theory he wants in his mind. 

 

You watch him leave, knowing damn well that something’s crossed his mind for him to change his expression like he’s done and just disappear, but for once you find yourself lost of ideas of why. You decide to follow him into the shower as soon as you hear the water running, not sure of how he’s going to take it but not being able to care about it either. You get naked in your room and then enter the bathroom, you can see him under the water but he hasn’t heard the door opening so he’s unconscious of your presence in the room until you step behind him, which makes him jump, clearlt scared, away from you.

-What the hell are you doing here?! – he yells.

-Oh calm down Johnny boy, daddy just wanted to check if his boy was having a nice shower, is the water’s temperature okay with you? 

He snorts and looks at you as if you needed immediate therapy, which only makes you chuckle. It’s kind of adorable how grumpy he is and how little you care, doesn’t he notice that it only encourages you when he gets angry? He must notice, yet he can’t seem to stop it. He’s unable to control his emotions like you, you’re much more powerful than he is and that’s the only thing stopping him from kicking you out of the shower, you realise. 

-Fiiiiiiiiine – you give in after a few seconds – I came to check if you were okay, you left with a face that said otherwise.

His face relaxes a little bit and he stares at you with some sort of curiosity.

-You were worried about me? – he asks, not believing it but wanting to pretend as though he does.

-Of course, thought you might need… some help to get those nasty thoughts off your mind.

He doesn’t say anything, but you can easily notice the shift in all his body, his eyes are sparkling with lust and they are wandering all over you, from your feet to your head. He bites his lip and you can’t take it anymore, you need to be inside him and make his head go blank, his senses go numb. Need to make him be only concerned about you, to have all his focus on you, to be so vulnerable at your mercy that he can’t possibly care about anything else in the world. The kiss is wilder than anything you two have shared before, and the feeling of his wet skin under your hands is delicious. He’s easily aroused, you’ve noticed this before, but this time it’s come even faster than you remember and you smirk, because you can’t help it, he’s such a wonderful lover. You don’t need to say a word to him, he’s already facing the wall, his hands on it as he waits for you to enter him, but you decide to have a little bit of fun by giving him light touches on his throbbing cock and sucking on the back of his neck seductively, making him groan in pleasure and desperation. You start fingering him, not to stretch him, because you already know there’s no need, but just to hear more of those desperate moans until you’re the one who’s drowning in need and you stop playing in order to actually fuck him mercilessly against the wet wall, making him be close to hitting his head repeatedly, but somehow the man manages to stand on his feet and keep his hands safe on the wall without slipping. It doesn’t take him long to cum after all the foreplay you’ve made him experience, and your climax comes shortly after. Exhausted from the effort of not slipping all through it, you pull out and wash yourself while he shyly washes himself. You get out of the shower to let him finish in peace, as he’s clearly not used to share a shower with anyone, and even less you, and you don’t want to make him too uncomfortable. Even so, you know he’s loved the sexual experience, and you know that whatever was bothering him is gone for the moment. 

There are so many things you don’t know about John Watson, is crazy to think that you truly used to think he was just an ordinary man, a simple pet for Sherlock to keep around in order to help him chase down criminals. No, now you can see John was a lot more for the genius, because John is a box full of surprises and you want to know them all, to be the owner of all his secrets and have knowledge of every single little thing that haunts his mind and his soul. You just want to know, because you want to make him fall the hardest he’s ever fallen, and there’s no better way to someone’s heart than knowing what tickles them inside.


	12. Chapter 12

It’s been two weeks of living together, and you haven’t let John Watson out of the house during all that time. You’re feeling somehow scared of Mycroft finding out where you live, of Mycroft taking John away from you. You’ve grown quite fond of the little man constantly wandering around your house, admiring every corner and praising each item of decoration he lays his eyes on, and you don’t want to lose that, don’t want to risk it in any possible way. He’s asked you, of course, he wondered why on Earth he wasn’t allowed out of the house and have a normal life as he asked to, even confronted you about moving out of England for the sake of security. And you’ve actually thought about it, moving to France, get a nice flat in Paris with views to the Eiffel Tower and access to a load of places full of the finest art, maybe Italy, to enjoy the food and the sun and the astounding beauty of its cities… you don’t even know why you’re considering it. It sounds too romantic, too much for you, too much for him. You told him that he couldn’t, he insisted, you made Seb threat him with the promise of putting a bullet through his head if he ever dared. You remember the look of disgust in his eyes when the sniper said those words as you smirked, he looked at you as if you were the most terrible human in the whole world, and you immediately regretted it. You tried to apologise but he was having none of it, you tried buying him nice stuff: a box of chocolates, flowers, plenty of books… it was Valentine’s Day over and over again and yet he didn’t even let you touch him. True, you could have done it anyway, but you didn’t want to push it, you needed him to trust you again, needed to have the man coming up to you by his own choice rather than feeling obligated to do so, and said moment didn’t take place until last night.

Last night you couldn’t take it anymore, desperate, you got your gun and went to a room that got destroyed in a matter of seconds. The sound of stuff breaking and being smashed to pieces when a bullet ripped through them was relaxing, obviously you weren’t as stupid as to destroy things that couldn’t be replaced, everything that you shot was stuff that could be bought again at any moment, but John Watson had to make a fuss about it any way. You hadn’t even heard him step into the room until you finished shooting, what an idiot, a bullet could’ve gone out of its way and killed him. He got his arms crossed and stared at you with a frown, expecting an explanation that you didn’t want to give him but did anyway.

-I was bored – you lied firstly. 

-To hell with that, Jim, tell me the truth – he snorted.

-Oh, so now you don’t believe me? 

-Of course I don’t fucking believe you! Look at this mess! This is not what a bored man does, this is something else!

-This is what a bored psychopath does, as you love to recall, I’m not a normal man.

He loosened the grip of his crossed arms and stared at you with an unreadable face, but his expression had softened significantly. 

-I don’t love to recall that… it’s just your nature, I guess. Still… this is not normal, so please can’t you just tell me the truth? 

You fought it, you really did, but you couldn’t stop yourself from confessing to him the real reasons behind your furious gust. You wanted to tell him, you guess, he made you open up for the first time with no lies in the middle and not faking a character.

-I was angry because you won’t forgive me for what I made Seb say – you murmured speaking way too fast.

He chuckled, normally it’d have been a lovely sound but then you had just opened up to someone for the first time in ages and he was laughing, it made you clinch your fists and get ready to punch him if he dared to laugh any further, but he didn’t, instead he took a step closer to you and slowly reached out for the gun in your hand. You let him take it easily, not able to put any resistance into it.

-Jim… I’m sorry I didn’t let you talk about it, I understand you’re just trying to protect me, protect yourself, but I swear to God I’m not going anywhere, I’m not gonna leave you.

-It’s not that what worries me, John, it’s Mycroft.

He let out a surprised gasp and instantly asked what the hell Sherlock’s brother had to do with anything. You explained it to him, all of it, your meeting with the man and all the danger it would suppose if he dared to go outside the house. He understood, but he brought back the matter of moving out of England, the easiest way. He obviously thought that you truly liked him as more than a simple sexual toy, as more than a pet. He believed to be really appreciated, and you couldn’t quite deny it, but he isn’t as important as for moving out of the place where you have everything, you told him that, but he insisted, insisted a lot of times before finally kissing you softly and leaving the room. ‘’Think about it’’ he had said. And you haven’t even slept thinking about it.

It’s true that you could manage to take care of the empire from abroad, even could make a few arrangements so that you could live together in some other place and take a few flights during the week in case it was necessary to be in England. You have clients from everywhere around the globe and it’s not a problem that you live somewhere that’s not their country. It could be done, it could be easier than it looked first, but you can’t do it, you just can’t do it, can’t leave London behind, Sherlock… you need to be close, need to breath in the same air as the genius, know what he’s up to, see him crumble and fall and destroy himself as he drowns in remembrance. It’s your favourite hobby these days, and there’s also Seb, he wouldn’t be happy to leave, in fact, he would be very upset if he had to, and you’re not moving without him either, so for the moment it’s impossible, and John needs to understand, he fucking needs to understand. 

You walk to his room, it’s past lunch time and he still hasn’t gotten out of it. He moved to his own bed the night you had that argument and you haven’t even tried to make him change his mind, if he needs time, time you’ll give, but the need of his trust and the frustration of not being able to have him is taking over your senses so you shyly knock on his door and wait for him to open it. He’s showing a very messy hair, just dried by the looks of it, and he’s wearing sweatpants and a black fit t-shirt that makes him look way younger and healthier than he is, but that could also be the impression given by the fact that he’s shaved. He’s clean shaved and there’s not a spot of hair on his cheeks. You can’t help but lick your lips at the thought of kissing all the way through his newly soft jawline and sucking on his neck. He notices and with a smooth move he pulls you inside the room and closes the door behind, holding you tight and gripping your arms as he forces his mouth on yours, which you more than happily allow him to do. 

John doesn’t know why he’s doing it, why he’s undressing Jim again and letting him fuck him on his bed. He doesn’t know why he even let the man in again, but he can’t think about it any other way. He’s grown to like Jim a lot, genuinely like him, he has forgotten the last time Sherlock was on his mind, he has disappeared, simply disappeared, all he can think about lately is the criminal that’s now inside him. The criminal who he lives with, the man that not long ago threatened to kill him if he stepped outside the room, the same man who keeps him nearly captive inside his flat. And yet… he can’t be angry at him, he looks at him and there’s no anger, no distrust, no fear. He looks at Jim and there’s only lust, and a sickening love that’s starting to grow. He’s not a fool, he knows what love feels like and there’s no other way to call it, but he is quite scared of it. Having sex with Moriarty is one thing, wrong, but still not too bad, whereas loving him would be the worst thing he could ever do, he can’t fall for him, and the realisation that he has, in fact, fallen for Jim Moriarty scares him to death. He would do anything in order to be with him, he’s accepting living inside a freaking flat for the sake of being by his side. He’s never felt more like a fool, and he can’t even get to worry about it. He knows Jim will end up falling for him too, and when that happens, when that heavenly dream finally comes true, he’ll accept the idea of moving out of England. The thing is, John fears, that Jim won’t know when it happens and he will refuse to admit being in love with him until his last breath, but as he screams the name of the man that’s taken his life away in the bliss of his climax, he knows it’s already started, and now it’s just a matter of time until he realises.


	13. Chapter 13

Sherlock is bored. In fact, he’s never been more bored than he is now. He can barely remember the last time he wasn’t bored, the times were not everything was boring, when John was with him. He stares into the darkness outside the flat as the raindrops fall on the window with that annoying noise that reminds him of a tickling clock. 

He destroyed all the clocks he owned, he didn’t want any reminder of the time passing by, time that was worthless because John wasn’t with him and he had never felt so… empty. He had never felt like that, Jim Moriarty didn’t even make him feel angry, not even slightly annoyed. He was just numb, even his biggest enemy had become boring. He feels the liquid filling his veins slowly and he lies back on the couch, head in the clouds but feet sadly still fixed on the ground. Not even the drugs seem to be working lately, his mind palace is stuck in John’s room and he struggles every night to try and get out of there, but the next day he’ll be back and he doesn’t even know how. He wishes he could fly, fly away from everything, fly until he reached the sun and simply burn. He doesn’t want to die, but he doesn’t want to live either, he had given up to the fact that his feelings were playing him, still hoping that there would come the day were he woke up and didn’t feel empty anymore. The day when he wouldn’t wake up screaming John’s name. But he wasn’t a fool, he knew such day would never come. 

 

You wake up with a weird taste in your mouth reminding you of last night’s experiences and the fact that John has finally forgiven you, it took him about two seconds of your mouth around his cock to lay down his armour and just take you back. Probably sex isn’t the best way to get someone to forgive you, they could change their mind as soon as you stopped having sex, but there’s no reason for you two to stop shagging every single night so you’re safe. He seemed to be happy last night, and for some reason that’s put you into a very good mood so you literally jump out of bed in order to have a shower and start the day off well. You read through your messages, there are a few easy things to do, simple blackmail, some terrorist cell that requires your help to introduce weapons in the country and another one that’s a little bit more interesting: they’re asking you to get rid of a guy, who supposedly abused the girl who’s asking you to do so. You smile, what if you took John with you? He has killed people before, you know it, he killed the cab because he was a bad guy and was putting his friend in danger, so why wouldn’t he agree on the fact that an abuser is better off dead? Why wouldn’t he pull the trigger? 

Normally it would be an easy job for Sebastian, getting rid of someone no one’s going to mourn, but this time you ask him to kidnap the man and take him to one of your basements outside the city. You’ll take John at night, you won’t tell him where you’re going, and then you’ll put a gun in his hands and let him decide, yes, sounds good. You’re lost in your thoughts with the water running over you when you suddenly feel two hands firmly grabbing your waist. You turn around and smile at John, whose eyes are dark and filled with lust and you feel even proud of him for daring to disturb you.

-Who invited you? – you ask pretending not to be interested in his body getting wet and his growing erection.

-You didn’t need an invitation to do this to me the other day – he replies with a smug smile. 

-But you’re not me.

-No, that’s why I’m here. There’s something we didn’t do last night, well, something we haven’t done yet… - he murmurs as he steps closer to you and your body gets paralized so that you can’t do anything but wait in anticipation to what you know is coming – and I was wondering if I could… 

You try hard not to laugh but you can’t help the chuckle that escapes your mouth, although you’re quick enough to go back to your previous serious face.

-You want to fuck me? 

You didn’t laugh due to it being a stupid question, you laughed because it’s funny to see how his cheeks have turned red and he’s even scared to form the question himself, or give an answer, he truly thinks you’ll say no, and that’s what’s so funny.  
-I do, yeah – he replies within a few seconds.

-So what are you waiting for? – you say as you slowly approach him and force your mouth onto his’ and he surprisingly answers back pushing you onto the wall and attacking your mouth fiercely.

And all of a sudden his hands are on every inch of your body, you’re sure as hell it’s physically impossible for him to have them everywhere at the same time but that’s what it feels like. You can’t help but moan and he stares at you with amusement and curiosity in his eyes, as though he’s having fun and at the same time he wants to discover the different sounds you make depending on where he’s putting his hands, and that’s what he does. You don’t repress any sound coming out of your mouth, and he seems to be loving that but you can’t imagine him enjoying the experience more than you are. It has been such a long time since anyone touched you in these ways, and he does it so well… but he stops to turn you around to face the wall and you can’t complain because you’re dying to feel him inside you, you actually need it like oxygen, or even more, you’re not even sure you need that one to exist right now as you hold onto the shower for dear life while he thrusts you slowly at first and painfully fast when he gets used to you. And now you’ve lost it completely, even though you can hear him laughing you couldn’t care less as the sound of your grunts and raving moans in a mixture of pleasure and pain. You can’t quite decide if you like the pain or the pleasure more, because they both feel good to you, and you don’t have time to sort it out before he cums with a very loud grunt that turns you on even more than you already were and gets you to jerk off as well. You can’t face him just yet, you stay facing the wall, afraid of your own feelings growing towards the man behind you. You know you want to kiss him, and that’s exactly why you don’t. You step out of the shower decided to change the situation, he looks at you with a confused stare but you ignore him and you go back to your room to call Seb and tell him your plans. He agrees, well, of course, he doesn’t have other option, and you smile to yourself. This shall be a fun day.

John couldn’t actually expect what was coming for him when he took Jim’s offer to go with him somewhere. He just accepted for the sake of going outside after so long, but if he had known what was the plan he would’ve stayed home instead. He is now face to face with a stranger that’s tied to a chair in the middle of an empty garage, with just a light above their heads iluminating the place. He’s been given a gun and thrown inside the room, this man’s gagged and blindfolded, so all he can do when he hears the door opening is shake uncontrollably hoping that he’ll get away. But he obviously won’t, John is aware of it, if he doesn’t do it, somebody else will. Jim is right behind him, but he steps in front of him and gets the tape off the man’s eyes so he can see what he’s up against. John doesn’t dare to speak, not even when the man’s eyes are pleading him to drop the gun and just let him be free, he doesn’t dare to move a single finger as Jim approaches him, with the darkness surrounding him and looking more dangerous than ever.

-Go on, Johnny boy, kill this rat – he tells him as he places a hand on his waist and bruses his lips against the soft and exposed skin on his neck –. Kill him and you’ll have anything, John, anything. 

He felt the shivers running down his spine, and the look in the man’s eyes has changed to something that he can’t quite put into words, but makes him want to shoot his brains out. And he’s scared. More scared than ever and not of Jim, of himself. Jim isn’t actually forcing him to kill that man, he wants him to do it but he can walk away at any point and yet he’s frozen still. He’s moved the gun up without even realising and he can feel Jim’s stare on him, full of pride, and he thinks he can even see the glimpse of a smile in the lips of the consulting criminal. Jim has told him why this man is here today, Jim could have been lying, but he doesn’t doubt his words for a second. He stares into the man’s eyes and asks for forgiveness as he pulls the trigger and watches the bullet breaking through the man’s sking, right between his eyes. The blood starts to fall instantly off his head and splashes on the floor and the wall behind him. Jim runs to hold him and he feels him the closest he’s ever been, and he wishes that could warm him, because he’s just realised he’d do anything for him, but somehow he stays cold and that explains everything. He’s acted like Jim Moriarty, therefore, he’s feeling as numb as him, suddenly, he understands everyhting and when the criminal kisses him and he kisses him back, he can feel it in his heart, as though they were the same. He understands why Jim is so afraid of falling in love, why he’s not even capable of giving it a chance. Taking away someone’s life makes you cold inside, no matter the reason why you’ve killed them. It just does. And to take that coldness away he would’ve to make great efforts, but he was willing to do it for him, and himself, before he turned into the only thing he never wanted to be.


	14. Chapter 14

-You know he’ll eventually find us, right? – John asks when they get back to Jim’s flat.

-Who, Sherlock? – Jim replies with a smug smile.

John sighs, tired of not being taken seriously.

-Yes. I was being serious when we discussed this Jim, you can’t keep me locked up here forever.

-And I haven’t, in fact, we’ve just come back from a lovely walk! 

-Only you’d call that ‘’a lovely walk’’ – John snorts walking away from him.

The criminal mastermind tells his right-hand man to get outside the house and keep his guard before sprinting to where the doctor is and blocks his way.

-Look at me in the eye and tell me that man didn’t deserve to die.

His words are sharp as knives and John felt his heart clutching a little. Having him so close, looking at him like that, is an intoxicating mix of fear and lust that he couldn’t deny finding extremely exciting. 

-You know I can’t tell you that, Jim, but…

-But nothing – the taller man replies – you killed him and with that you did something good for the world. You did something good for a poor abused girl. 

-I didn’t ask to be there. I didn’t want to get my hands dirty with death once again.

-He had dirtier hands, Johnny… a lot worse than yours… you’re still a good man after all. 

-I was a good man – he corrects him – but then I decided to come here with you, knowing damn well that I should be reporting you to the police and going back to Sherlock, Sherlock who was my best friend, and I let him believe that I’m dead. I’d call myself the worst person ever if it wasn’t because you’re standing in front of me, and yet…

-Thanks for the compliment, my dear – Jim replies pretending to be very happy about being the worst man that John had ever known – but yet what?

-And yet I can’t help loving you.

Suddenly, the world freezes, or at least it does for you. There’s an annoying sound in your head, pumping through your veins, what was it again? Ah, yes, your heart. Your heart is beating harder than ever since… since ever, at least that you can remember. What the hell is he doing? What kind of sick game is he playing on you? You’re not going to let that happen, no way.

-Go have a shower John, your shirt has blood on it and I’m sure it’ll do you good.

-Jim, I… - he tries to make you look at him grabbing you from under your jaw but you get easily rid of his hand and take a few steps backwards.

-Just go. Now – you command him, but he doesn’t want to listen and it’s getting on your nerves, and you could just kill him right now and end it all but you can’t, you can’t -. John, leave me alone.

He stares at you with the same eyes he had when he confessed his love for you. And you just can’t even allow yourself to believe it, not for a second, he’s playing with you. He must want something and thinks that’s the best way to get it, well how wrong can someone be? You get your gun out and point it at his head, hands firmly grapped around it, ready to pull the trigger even though you know you won’t be able to. He instinctively puts his hands up, but that’s all he does because his expression doesn’t change a bit, even if all his body has tensed up.

-This is the last time I warn you – you start explaining very slowly so that he can finally understand – you’re going to go upstairs, have a shower and then you’ll come downstairs, to the kitchen, dinner will be waiting for you, you’re going to eat everything I leave for you and then you’re going to your room and get a good sleep. Is it all clear enough for you now?

You don’t even know why you offered yourself to make dinner but he nods and after a few seconds he turns around and disappears through the door. You throw the gun away, disgusted at such a childish reaction. He told you that he loves you, nothing bad, wasn’t it what you wanted? Then why does it feel so wrong to hear it? Why did it make your heart beat faster? Why did it make you feel such rage? You are well used to having these moments, losing control and all that, but this was somehow different to all of that… this is not good. You know it’s not good. For god’s sake couldn’t he just keep it for himself? It wasn’t so hard.

But he loves you, it’s what you wanted, wasn’t it? Wasn’t it the main goal of all this? 

Now he’ll be willing to do anything you say, he won’t mean any danger, even less, he’ll gladly follow you around like a puppy because that’s what people in love do. You’ve got him at his weakest, and you’ve ruined it for not being able to fake a little bit longer, just for a minute, that his feelings are reciprocated. What a fucking waste you have become. You need to re-evaluate all of this, you can’t lose focus, not now, not now that you’ve got what you wanted. It’s the ultimate key to destroy Sherlock, making him see that the only person he’s ever truly loved is in love with his enemy. Ah, won’t that be lovely? Little Johnny boy can’t even imagine what his heart will be used for, that’ll be the best part, he’ll be the one who ruins Sherlock forever, it won’t even be you… but that’ll ruin John as well. It’ll drain the light that’s in him forever. For some reason, the image of John being destroyed is not appealing anymore, it’s not nearly as appealing as the image of him, so full of life, smiling, laughing, kissing you, even fucking you. And better not think about that because if you made him choose between Sherlock or you, he’d never do that to you anymore, he’d never forgive you, would he? No, he wouldn’t. Sherlock’s got to die in any other way, but he has to. Maybe a change of plans won’t be so bad after all, you can keep John with you, let him love you and warm you up a little, and secretly end Sherlock’s life. John doesn’t even have to find out, you can send Seb… but no, you need to be the one behind the trigger. You need to watch him die, and he needs to die because otherwise John won’t ever stay with you and John needs to stay because it’s what he needs… or is it what you need? 

You decide to start making dinner so your mind can be elsewhere. You remember how shocked John seemed to see you actually cook for yourself, but obviously you had to learn to, how could you trust anyone else for something that’s going in your mouth? Never! Besides, cooking is something you’re quite good at and makes you concentrate on something else than work. You go for an easy recipe since John won’t take that long in having a shower and you take a bit of it upstairs with you, leaving the rest for him. Locked in your room, listening to some pop music on the radio while you stare at the ceiling while eating curry chicken while the man who loves you is peacefully eating downstairs probably wishing you were with him, it’s a bit sad even for you. Eventually, you hear footsteps in fron of your room, and you can easily picture him stopping in front of your door for a second before heading to his own room, hesitasing whether to knock on it or not, and finally choosing to leave you alone probably remembering the last time he saw you, you had a gun pointed at him. You chuckle, he knows you’d never dare to do that, and you can’t yet decide whether that’s good or bad, but it’s the ultimate sign of trust. You go to the kitchen to check if he’s eaten all you left, and leave your own dirty dishes, and you’re pleased to see he has obeyed. It’s weird, now that you’re not angry, nor in panic, anymore, you actually appreciate John’s words. He loves you. You. Such an impeccable man, a person who stands for all the good matters in life, has fallen for you, one of the worst men in the whole world. How’s that for a fairytale? It sounds perfect.

You go back to your room and lay on your bed decided to have a good rest, but you can’t help noticing the smell of John on your pillowcase, even impregnated in the sheets and it’s making you go crazy for some reason. You can’t stay, you just can’t, you need to see him and tell him… what are you even gonna tell him? You don’t know, but you’re already up and headed for disaster. You knock on John’s door twice before he actually opens it and lets you in. He’s wearing his pj’s but for some reason his bed looks as though he wasn’t even laying on it.

-What do you want now, Jim? – he asks with a frown – I thought you wanted me to leave you alone.

-I’ve changed my mind.

-And what’s made you do such a thing? 

-You.

He raises an eyebrow at you and then goes to sit on the bed giving a gentle pat on the matress at his side inviting you to sit beside him.

-Why did you get so scared? You realise it’s nothing bad, right? – he softly asks placing a hand on your lower back, a light touch that gets you shivering.

-I didn’t get scared – you lie – I just… I’m sorry, okay? I shouldn’t have done that.

-No, you really shouldn’t – he acknowledges – but it’s all fine, I accept your apologies.

You’d laugh, but you’re actually sorry that you did it, and that’s quite a step in the right direction. Now, you ought to look even more vulnerable, because he’s nearly there, but not there yet.

-Can I sleep here with you tonight? – you ask in such a tone that makes it seem as though you’re for once the lamb and not the wolf.

He kisses you so sweetly that you feel as though you got a freaking sugar rush, then locks his eyes with yours, making your foreheads touch, and in a broken whisper he says:

-You can sleep here with me every night.


	15. Chapter 15

Mycroft Holmes was sat in his private room at the Diogenes Club, for any curious eye he’d look as though he was very deep in the reading of an old book with its cover made of black leather, but he wasn’t even looking at the letters written in the wasted yellow pages. He had a more important matter in mind, besides, he had read that book around ten times already. He was thinking of his brother, Sherlock, who had been dealing with a clear depression for the past months due to the loss of his best friend, even if he didn’t want to recognise it. He couldn’t do anything to help him because the younger Holmes just wouldn’t accept that he had a problem, even less to his brother. He couldn’t help but feel guilty for the state of Sherlock, because he knew the secret between John Watson and James Moriarty, and he knew that just a word about it to his little brother would drag him out of the hell he was living. But he also knew that Sherlock would never understand why John had wanted to fake his own death, and even less how he had apparently found himself a place in Moriarty’s bed, he’d chase the criminal mastermind until one of them ended up dead, and he couldn’t risk his brother’s life like that. He just couldn’t risk losing Sherlock. He had to speak with John first, make him go back to Baker Street and forget about any fairytale that Jim Moriarty had stuck in his head, because the older Holmes was convinced of the fact that what John Watson felt towards Moriarty was a simple infatuation, kind of a Stockholm Syndrome. He couldn’t have been any more mistaken. 

 

You’re in bed, your head laying on John’s bare chest as the man plays with your hair and reads some book that he got from your library. It’s not what you’re used to, but you truly don’t mind it. Even if the idea of John loving you is still something that you don’t understand, it doesn’t feel wrong at all. You remember your plan, you wanted this, to destroy him, to make him beg and bleed and do anything you said just because he’d be blinded by love, but now the thought of doing those things doesn’t make you feel any better. If anything, it makes you feel empty. 

It’s nice, being like this, John’s heartbeat is a peaceful sound. It’s numbing all your senses and making you feel as if you were on a cloud. What if you feel love towards him as well? No, that’s stupid, you’d know if it was love, right? Maybe not… 

You feel a shiver coming down your spine as his fingers are buried deeper in between your hair and you can’t help the smile that comes out of your lips as you hum in pleasure and tighten your hold around his waist. He doesn’t move, he only takes his hand off your hair when he finishes a page and has to go on to the next one which is really annoying because it stops the delicious feeling. You feel tempted to gift him an electronic book so he can hold it in one hand and have the other one free for you. You feel your eyes slowly starting to close, and you realise that you have unconsciously started to caress John’s soft skin right in the place where your hand is lying on him. You stop the motion when you hear a vibration on the table, meaning that your phone has received a message. John is going to get it for you but you stop him, unsure of what it may be, and stand up to get the phone yourself. You paralyze when you see the message showing on its screen: 

‘’I want to talk to John. It can’t wait.

MH’’

Why would Mycroft need to talk to your man? And why would he be in such a rush? If the man says it can’t wait, then it can’t wait, you can’t risk him getting his nose in your business, but then again it could risk losing John to him, and that’s something you can’t risk either.

-Johnny, darling…

-What’s it Jim? – he asks, putting down the book and looking concerned about you.

You start wandering around the room, unsure of how to explain your fears to him, until he gets up and grabs your arm to stop you.

-You know you can tell me anything, right? – he assures you, placing both his hands on your shoulders – Anything. Now, who was it? 

He doesn’t take his hands off your shoulders, and you swallow looking him in the eye before answering, looking as vulnerable as you can.

-You do remember why you asked me to plan out all of this, your death, everything… don’t you? - He nods without a change in his expression and you go on – So, do you still… do you still feel that towards Sherlock? Would you leave me if he was to change his mind?

He looks at you, confused, then lets out a chuckle and tightens his grip around your shoulders.

-Why are you asking me this? Who was that?

-Can’t you just answer my question?

-No, Jim, of course I wouldn’t! – he exclaims, letting go of you and staring at you as if you were mad - Jeez, can’t you see that I’m here, after everything? That I’m with you, that I freaking love you?

-Alright then. It was Mycroft, he wants to have a little chat with you.

-With me? What for?

-I don’t know! Probably wants you to return to Baker Street and look after poor little Sherlock, hold his hair as he vomits all the drugs out and that stuff.

-And you’d be alright with that?

He’s got you there. No, of course you wouldn’t be alright with that, you’d be watching their every move through your cameras and if Sherlock dared to ever breath near John you’d kill him. It’s amazing, because destroying John would be the easiest, most painful, way to destroy the young Holmes. But something tells you that destroying John would kill something inside you that’s starting to grow thanks to him. You’d understand if he went back to help Sherlock, but the hate you feel towards the man would rise to a level where it’d be impossible to control, impossible not to haunt him down and end his life.

-No, I wouldn’t – you finally admit.

-Then I won’t, but if it would help Sherlock to know I’m alive, then I need to let him know.

-Why?! You don’t love him anymore, why do you care?

-He’s my friend, Jim! Maybe you don’t understand what it’s like to care about someone but believe me, I do, and it’s got nothing to do with wanting to have sex with them.

-Your friend? – you snort – Alright, I’ll tell Mycroft you’ll be meeting him in an hour.

-Aren’t you coming? 

-You’re kidding? Of course I’m coming! Tonight, in your bed, I hope.

This makes the man laugh and shake his head in disbelief, but he walks towards you portraying that stupid and contagious smile and kisses you with an unexpected passion. 

-You might, if you behave correctly – he concedes.

-Oh come on! That’s not fair! We’re going to anyway, you know you like me when I’m a bad boy.

-I wouldn’t be so sure if I were you. Now, stop talking and tell Mycroft.

-Alright, get ready. And please, do dress up correctly, wouldn’t want to disappoint the man.

He nods and you walk out of his room, heading out to yours as you type out an answer for the Holmes. You’ll meet where you always do, no question about it. You have a quick shower and then you choose a light grey suit, a white shirt and a tie that matches the suit’s colour. Looking at your own reflection, you think of shaving your stubble off, but then remember that John has quite a grown beard and you’ll look perfect together with your facial hair. 

You stumble upon John as you head out of your room. He’s looking dashing with a black suit, a white shirt and some weird purple tie with tiny black dots that you don’t remember having bought. He looks happy to be meeting Mycroft, even if he looks somehow worried, and you can’t blame him since all the human contact he’s had in months has been you or Seb. You both go out and meet with the sniper, who’s driving you to the place. John greets him cheerfully, and Sebastian is equally pleased to see the other man. You’ll never understand why, but you don’t say a word about it and you just get into the car being followed by John. He instantly wraps his arms around you, and you can see Seb’s smirk on the rear mirror but you couldn’t care less and get John to face you in order to lean in for a kiss. He quickly understands you’re doing it to annoy the driver and he plays the game, so when you get there about half an hour later it seems as though time hasn’t passed. You see Mycroft’s car hidden behind a few trees on the other side of the old road that’s led you there. You take John’s hand and guide him inside the building. He doesn’t look too surprised, probably he’s been abducted by the Holmes’ people already and been taken to somewhere similar. 

You walk inside and quickly notice the familiar silhouette standing in front of a chair, probably expecting John to sit in there.

-Don’t sit – you whisper in his ear.

He nods and goes to meet the known man, but you stand behind watching as they interact.

-Hello, John. It’s been a long time – you hear Mycroft greet him, offering a hand that John only accepts after a dubious few seconds –. Hello to you too, Jim – he adds looking up at you.

-Where are your manners, Mycroft? – you exclaim stepping towards him and shaking his hand. – Am I not worthy of your hand? 

-Not really – the man bitterly replies.

-Ouch. Alright, I shall leave you two alone then… or would you rather me to stay Johnny? – you ask after kissing his cheek. You watch as Mycroft rolls his eyes and you smirk satisfied by his reaction, and it’s only been an innocent peck on his cheek! – Yes, I think I’m gonna stay, if that’s okay with the cleverest Holmes? 

He doesn’t say anything, obviously tired of having to deal with you, and turns his attention to John instead. You put your arms around his waist and your head on his shoulder, staring at Mycroft who, after biting his lip and rolling his eyes out of annoyance once again, starts to speak with him.

-As you probably know, Sherlock’s been having a tough time dealing with your loss. He won’t accept it, he won’t accept my help either, and I don’t know what to do – he sighs, clearly ashamed of having to ask someone for help -. I need your help, John.

-And how am I supposed to help? I’m dead – John replies sarcastically, and you can’t help the chuckle that escapes your lips, nor kissing his neck again to show how pleased you are with his answer.

-John, please – Mycroft insists -. He’s losing himself, completely. I know you think he’ll get through it but I… I’ve never seen him like this before. And trust me, I’ve seen him in very dark places.

-Yes, alright. How would I even be able to help?

-Go back to Baker Street… 

-No – he interrupts -. No, I’m not going back there, Mycroft. I’m sorry.

-Why not? Don’t tell me it’s because…

-Watch your words, Mycroft – you step into the conversation, making it sound as a warning more than a real threat.

-Jim, it’s okay – John calms you down, kissing you very sweetly and holding your hand but pushing you aside in order to speak with the other man -. Did you see that? That’s my life now, I’m not giving it up to go back with someone who never appreciated me.

-Oh, because I’m sure that James Moriarty appreciates you a lot…

You feel a rising rage running through every inch of your body and you have to hold back not to jump on him and make him regret what he’s saying. You realise, in that moment, that you do appreciate John’s existence quite a lot. More than you believed you did, anyway. 

-I don’t know that for sure – John smartly replies – but I do know that I appreciate him. In fact, I love him, Mycroft. Don’t dare to say anything about it, I’m not having any of your bullshit tonight. So there’s no way I’m going back to Baker Street.

-He’s used heroine, John… 

And you can instantly notice the change in your lover’s expression. The way his hand’s grip on yours tightens till the point it nearly hurts you, the fear in his eyes, the worry about… Sherlock.

-Heroine? – he repeats, unable to believe it – When? How much?

-It was a small dose, two days ago – Mycroft calmly informs -. But, obviously, I don’t think he’ll stop there. And you know I can barely tolerate the cocaine, but that’s just…

-No – John says – I mean, I understand. Oh, god… alright. I’ll try to help. I won’t go back with him but I guess I can pay him a visit every now and then if… if that’ll help. I’ll keep an eye on him.

-And when have I given you permission to do that, Johnny? – you snort, suddenly afraid of losing him to Sherlock, because you know the detective won’t be willing to share his pet.

-I’ll be there, tomorrow, make sure he’s home – John tells Mycroft, not paying attention to you.

-Thank you, John, I’m glad to see you’re still the loyal man I met so long ago… after all.

He smiles at him and then he drags you through the empty space until you reach the door you entered through, where he stops and looks at you with a certain anger in his eyes.

-You’re going to let me go – he says, so sure of himself that you feel tempted to slap his face. 

-I would have, but you didn’t ask me.

-You can’t stop me. What are you going to do, uh, Jim? Are you going to kill me? – he asks, pulling out the gun in your pocket and placing it in your hand, then taking your hand up until the barrel is directing to his forehead, right between his eyes, never breaking eye-contact with you –. Tell me, are you going to kill me if I go?

You charge the gun and put it against his head, above his ear, pressing it hard against his skin and the soft hair there, the hair that you’ve touched so many times, and you feel his eyes on you and it doesn’t make you angry, it doesn’t make you angry at all. He’s challenged you, and you’re not going to win for once.

He’s right, you’re not going to kill him if he goes. The idea of killing him isn’t appealing, it’s terrifying. It scares the hell out of you to think of life without him in it. Your hand starts to shake a little and you lower the gun, moment in which he shows off a very smug smile that makes you want to hurt him, which you do hitting him with the back of the weapon right in the stomach. Hard. And then you knock him out hitting him with it on the head. 

You carry him to the car, and Seb runs out of it to help you with it as soon as he sees you. He asks, but you don’t answer, which somehow makes him understand everything and he just drives back to the flat. Once you’re in there, you put him in bed, where he finally regains consciousness and stares at you as if asking why before falling asleep again.

He’s hurt, yes. But he’s not dead, and you’re definitely letting him go whenever he wants as long as he still chooses to come back home to you.


	16. Chapter 16

He wakes up before you do, and so when the sunlight finally gets to open your eyes you find yourself alone on the bed and instantly panic for a brief second before you hear the water running. He’s in the shower, he hasn’t left. You take a deep breath, letting all the tension drop off your body, and allow yourself to relax and wait for him to come out of the bathroom. He probably wants his own space, and so do you, actually. Having him out for the day will be a good way to start being your old self again, and hopefully that will make him seem less important and become a mere toy again. Maybe you could even kill him if you were to become yourself again…

But was that really yourself? Is it the real Jim that man who dresses in fancy suits and kills people for money, or is it the man who likes to cook for himself and John Watson and cuddle on the sofa late at night watching crappy films? You’re not so sure of that anymore, and you wish you could hate him for making you doubt about yourself when you were so sure before, but you just can’t.

Maybe you can be both, a consulting criminal who’s the boyfriend of a good man. Someone who still sends people on his regard to kill for money but is able to control himself from doing such things. Someone who knows how to kill and has the power to do so but doesn’t. After all, you haven’t dropped out of work, you’re just in a sweet escape, a much needed holiday. It had been years non-stop, and Sebastian is a capable man, he’s doing a fantastic job keeping an eye on the business these days. But you need to be back, as much as John needs to help people, you’ll need the work to keep yourself entertained now that he’s going to play the detective with Sherlock again.

-Didn’t you get a good sleep last night? – John’s voice distracts you from your thoughts and you realise you’ve closed your eyes while thinking while standing sat on the edge of the bed. He walks towards you, his hair is still wet and he’s only wearing a towel, and kneels in front of you, taking your hands in his and kissing your knuckles -. You know you have nothing to worry about, right?

-I’m not worried, Johnny…

-I’ll come back to you – he interrupts you, moving his hands so that they’re now resting on your knees. He doesn’t break eye-contact as one of his hands starts to smoothly move down your thigh, ever so gentle -. I understand why you’re worried but…

-I told you, I’m not… - you have to shut your mouth to repress a moan when John’s hand reaches in between your legs, the man shows off a smirk before he pushes you onto the bed so that he falls on top of you, his hands on your shoulders pressing you down against the mattress.

-But, as I was saying, you must be sure of the fact I won’t trade you for Sherlock. I never would, Jim, what we share is… special, and as you said long ago, I know he’d never be able to give this to me. And if he did, I’m sure it wouldn’t be nearly as good.

The image of Sherlock being dejected by the fact of you being better than him for John is inevitably appealing, and you feel yourself getting hard to the mere thought of it. You try to stand up to kiss him, but his hands are still on your shoulders and he’s got his body on yours in a way where it’s impossible for you to escape. You remember you used to be able to turn him around when things got like this, when and how the hell did he get so strong? You don’t have to question it for much longer, though, because his lips are on yours before you can ever think of trying to kiss him again, and you accept him without a single doubt. You accept the sweetness of the kiss, not so gross anymore, you accept the fact that he’s leading you on, that he’s the one in control this time, you accept the fact that he’s disgustingly loyal to someone you hate, and the fact that he’s going to be reunited with him again. You accept him for himself. 

You can see yourself reflected in his eyes, briefly, as though it was an illusion, and you looked so weak and vulnerable it scares you. Nevertheless, he doesn’t seem to care, there’s only love in his eyes, love and a kind of strange admiration. He’s not judging you, he’s not degrading you in any way, because he likes you when you take off your mask and you understand that as you accept him for who he is – even if it’s so different from yourself – he accepts you all the same.

He doesn’t believe you to be vulnerable when he sees your naked body under him as he thrusts into you. He’s seeing you as a human being. And that’s why you can’t recognise yourself in his eyes, you’re too used to the devil you see in the mirror, and John’s eyes are way too pure to reflect the demon trapped inside yours. You don’t even think the evil within is there anymore, if you were to look inside your skin right now, you’d just find bliss. Pure happiness, as though you had never been broken, as though you had never been twisted. And it’s so much better to feel this way… 

He cums with a loud grunt that sounds as though he tried to say your name and you get your release shortly afterwards. He falls on top of you and rests his head on your chest, so you start stroking his hair and he stays like that for a few minutes until he jumps out of bed.

-Right, so, I should be getting ready to go… but I still haven’t had breakfast, want me to prepare tea and a few toasts for both of us? – he asks as he heads out to the door.

-Yeah, that’d be nice – you reply, still too exhausted to move.

He disappears and then, when a few seconds have passed by and you feel better, you stand up and have a quick shower. You feel better than you did before, and much better than last night. Last night was a nightmare. John was partly right to ask if you haven’t had a good sleep. You totally haven’t.  
Your mind was screaming too loud, but now those voices are quiet and you can’t quite explain why you felt that way, why you got so scared. Why you’re still scared. It might, it just might be love. And if it is, you know you should tell him, you don’t wanna feel like you’re lying to him but on the other hand you’ll never be completely sure… 

You put on a t-shirt and some pants, not bothered to start looking for sweatpants and not in the mood for any other kind of trousers. You don’t say a word when he smiles at you as you enter the kitchen, and remain silent as you both eat. He looks at you with plain curiosity in his eyes, and you try to stay cold, but you melt under that stare and can’t help the smile that your lips draw. 

-Okay, Jim... I really should be going, alright? – he announces right after leaving his dishes in the sink. 

He’s wearing a pair of blue jeans alongside a dark maroon jumper that you bought him. Trying to look as normal as possible, you notice, he’s shaved and he looks very little like he did standing in front of Mycroft last night. He looks ordinary again, but you know very well he’s not. You swallow your saliva and your pride as you stand up to escort him to the door, where Seb is waiting to take him to the flat and take him back without being followed by anyone. Just the normal, only difference is it’s usually you who the sniper drives for. John goes to open the door but you stop him before he can reach the doorknob, taking him by the hand and making him turn around.

-What’s the mat…

His attempt to ask is interrupted as soon as your lips are on his. You kiss him pushing him against the door, his hands are on your hair as one of yours is on his lower back while the other one rests against the wood behind him to keep you both on your feet. He seems to understand what it’s all about, because when you eventually break the kiss he’s got a full smile on his face and his eyes are kind of teary, but that could also be the light, right? You can’t be sure, but it doesn’t matter anymore because John loves you, and by the speed of your heartbeat you’re almost certain of the fact you can reciprocate his feelings. And you know he knows it too, but you need to tell him before he goes away, because that’ll make him come back more than anything else ever would. You feel the hand resting on your shoulder as though it’s setting your skin on fire, but it’s nothing compared to the flames already burning inside your heart. You get the courage to face him and say the words you know you’ve been keeping for so long, but when those blue eyes are on yours you can’t help but freeze, and the words don’t come out as easily as you thought they would.

-Johnny, I… - he’s biting his lip and you’re sure now that those little sparks in his eyes are due to them being wet and reflecting the lights, which encourages you to go on so that those tears of joy will finally fall – I think… I love you.

He moves his hand so that it’s resting on your cheek now, and his thumb is drawing lines nearing your lips, he’s not crying though, and only then you notice that it’s you whose tears are falling to the floor. You don’t know why, you’re shaking, but the feeling of his soft fingers on your skin is soothing enough to calm you down. You close your eyes and melt into his touch, until he eventually pulls you close to him and hugs you tightly. You’re scared, but it all fades away when he’s touching you, no matter how.

-I know, Jim, I know you do – he whispers into your ear –. And so do I… I love you too, but now I’ve gotta go, alright? I’ll come back tonight, I promise.

He kisses you tenderly and then he opens the door and greets Seb letting the man lead him to the car and you follow them with your eyes until the vehicle eventually disappears around the first corner. 

Promises don’t really mean anything, but you let yourself believe it this time. Because it’s John, and John Watson is a loyal man, he would never lie to you, he’d never betray you. He wouldn’t have said it if he didn’t mean it…

 

Back in Baker Street, as Jim Moriarty finally let his walls break down for the sake of keeping John by his side, Sherlock was struggling to get up from the kitchen’s floor in where he had fallen unconscious the night before after consuming way too much. His head wasn’t spinning anymore, but the detective couldn’t quite focus on anything yet, so he stumbled his way through the space separating him from the sofa and let himself fall onto it before falling asleep again. Mrs Hudson hadn’t come into the flat to leave breakfast for him, she didn’t do that anymore, he had barked her out of the room in a especially bad morning a few weeks ago and the woman had understood that Sherlock was way too gone to be saved by her. 

For the old lady, only a miracle could bring Sherlock back to a normal life – as normal as the detective’s life could be – and she didn’t really have much faith in miracles. But there was one, the only one she wasn’t expecting: John Watson returning from the dead.

He wasn’t sure at first, when Sebastian dropped him off several blocks away and told him he’d be waiting there at dusk and that he should be punctual. He didn’t hesitate as he got his old keys off his trousers’ pocket and tried them on the lock. It opened, and so he stepped inside his former flat. The place seemed empty, he thought that Mrs Hudson would’ve gone grocery shopping and that Sherlock would be out with the Yard. He decided to wait upstairs, but he realised how wrong he was as soon as he opened the door he used to share not so long ago. 

When John steps into his old room, he finds not a quite unusual image. It’s the place that has changed for worse. What would’ve been bright by that time of the day before was now dark with all the curtains closed and blinds on. Sherlock was lying on the sofa, his head falling nearly on the edge of it and his left hand hanging over it. His face was lit by the little amount of light in the semi-darkness state he was into, and John couldn’t have imagined a worse scenario to reunite with him. 

He thinks of waking him up, maybe bring up some tea so that his friend can calm down once he sees him. But he doesn’t really have much time to react because, as soon as the door closes behind him, the detective is woken up abruptly, jumping out of the sofa, and stares at him as though he’s seeing a ghost. After all, that’s what John’s become for him.

-I see you’re back from your holidays – the taller man greets him -. Must’ve been somewhere dark, you look… paler – he adds pointing at his own face to clear it out.

-So do you – John replies unable to help a little smile, incredibly happy to be back to normal and see that Sherlock hasn’t lost himself completely.

They remain silent for a few seconds, John’s got his fists closed, and Sherlock keeps staring at him. Dressed in sweatpants and a baggy grey t-shirt, showing off a very messy hair and a dirty stubble that go along the dark circles under his eyes that makes him look stoned even if he’s not.

-Mrs. Hudson has gone grocery shopping – Sherlock eventually says.

John lets out a chuckle that’s more due to the anxiety he’s been holding for those seconds than the fact of Sherlock’s loss for words being funny.

-I figured that one out – he replies smiling at him. 

Sherlock stares at the floor now, John follows his stare and notices that he’s walking without even socks on. John quickly looks over them in order to find any sign of an injection on the skin. He thinks he’s been quick enough but, of course, Sherlock has noticed.

-I see Mycroft has told you… - he says, failing to sound bitter, coming out as defeated instead – but I had no reason to hide it so... 

He tucks the sleeve of his t-shirt and lets John see the little spot in his arm, which makes the former soldier freeze in place even if he already knew it had been done. 

-God, Sherlock… 

-I missed you, John – he says, unable to help the way his voice fails at the end of the sentence.

-I missed you too, god damn it Sherlock, come here.

John opens his arms and walks towards his friend who, even if he’s unsure at first, accepts the embrace and ends up reciprocating it, putting his shaking arms around John’s body and hugging him tightly. 

Just like that, surrounded by the darkness of a messy room that’s lived through so many of their adventures, the detective and his doctor are together again.


	17. Chapter 17

You watch as the two friends hug each other and you feel almost dirty for being such a stalker. Jealously owns your body as soon as their bodies are pressed together and it only increases as seconds pass by and they’re still warm in their embrace. You can’t help but wish it was you. John’s hugged you before but it had never showed that amount of… intimacy. As close as you two might have been, literally, Sherlock’s never been quite so close, it has never reached that point. It suddenly hits you that you’re lovers, but not friends. And he might love you, as some kind of weird crush or Stockholm Syndrome, but he loved Sherlock because he was his friend. Feelings grew based on a strong friendship, on trust, on that intimacy they had shared through the years. Living together, doing everything together, knowing each other’s weaknesses, knowing everything out of pure ordinariness.  
   
Whereas you two don’t have any of that. And yet John loves you, and you know he isn’t lying. And you know you love him, too. As much in denial as you might be about it. You know you love him ‘cause you feel it. And you don’t usually feel anything apart from hatred and anger. Or nothing. Numbness has been long gone for a while, and that’s the sign that points out the obvious. That you do love John Watson, that you'd do anything to keep him by your side and yet you know that there’s no way to control someone’s feeling. And it scares you, but it feels so good when John is near… whatever, because it doesn’t feel good now. You can’t keep watching them, it’s an invasion of John’s privacy – you don’t give a fuck about Sherlock’s – and it’s not right. You trust him, and it’s not like Sherlock is gonna suddenly realise of his feelings and claim John as his right before your eyes. He probably knows you’re watching, even if John hasn’t still had time to tell him he’s been with you all this time, young Holmes probably knows it already. It doesn’t take a genius to figure it out, and he can be considered as one so that was probably the first thought on his mind as soon as John appeared through the door.  
   
You must admit Sherlock was the first thing to come to your mind the first time you saw John standing in front of you on his very own. But then you thought about fucking him, because let’s face it, the man had always seemed attractive to you. It was only logical that you wanted it, besides, it had been a long time without being able to own someone like you did with John. It felt right, from the very beginning, even if that had been just sex. Even if he had been a simple escape.  
   
You wanted to know John Watson in order to destroy him, but now that you know him you want to focus on the details. You want to make him happy, you want him to see the person you buried deep inside so long ago. The person you’d be if you weren’t so scared of getting hurt, the person you’d be if you weren’t a freaking psychopath with suicidal tendencies. But it’s been a long time since you felt like giving up. And you know you love John because all the voices in your mind disappear when you’re with him. You know you love John because you haven’t felt like giving up even since he stepped in your flat for the first time.  
   
And you know every little detail about his everyday life. You know how he likes to take his tea, how he likes his coffee, his favourite meal, the fact that he loves your food and how it makes him happy when you cook something a little bit more complicated for the sake of seeing him enjoy it. You know about his nightmares, you know that he used to cry every night when he first came around. You know he likes to sing to all the cheesy songs they play on the radio while he’s in the shower alone, and how he’ll always deny it when you ask him about it. You’ve memorised the way your bodies look together, the way he likes to be touched, where he moans the loudest, where he goes literally crazy. You know how to turn him on, off, how to make his eyes shine and also how to bring him down, you know that because you know his fears. You’ve seen it in his eyes, you’ve seen it in how he acts around you after you say certain things. You know John, and still he comes up with some little thing that wouldn’t have mattered in the past but it so does now because it’s about him and you can never get bored of John Watson. You never thought of living this way, this everyday routine, being more or less… normal. It’s been so long since you don’t kill someone and today you really thought about doing it, you really wanted to do it when the idea came to your mind yesterday but as you sit alone waiting for John to return you find out that you’d much rather put on a shirt that he’s just worn to sleep and watch something so that he can find you on the sofa when Seb takes him back, clean and calm.  
   
But you need to prove it to yourself because you feel like you’re losing it, and so you get up and dress up in your nicest suit. The armour, the mask of Jim Moriarty. Seb will take you to where your victims are waiting, it’s a clean job and the money you’ll get for it is enough to be off the business for a while. Maybe you could take John on a nice holiday, it’s not like you couldn’t before, but it gives you an excuse. People will start to talk anyway, everyone you’ve made business with will start to wonder if they don’t hear about you soon. This shall calm down any rumour for a good while.  
   
Seb drives you to the place where the job must be dealt with. It’s easy, you just need to kill a power couple who are currently enjoying a few days off in the country. They’re staying at the man’s family farm. Lovely. It doesn’t have animals anymore, but the usual buildings are still there and there’s a dog guarding the place. Seb shoots it before it might even think of barking to alert its owners and the pet dies in a matter of seconds. You feel a sting of guilt, you don’t usually mind killing people, but animals are a different thing. Dogs are only doing their job protecting their owners, just as you are doing your job killing them. It’d have been better to come by night, but John will be home by night and he’d never look at you the same if he knew this. These people, they must have done something very wrong for who employed you to want them both off so badly. They kinda gross you out, the picture perfect family. You must admit it doesn’t make you sad, nor guilty, it doesn’t make you feel anything when you pull the trigger against the dad’s head and his blood and brains smash against the nearest wall and onto his little baby’s head as the little thing sleeps on its crib.  
   
You smile. Fuck, yes, the power, the adrenaline running through your veins. This feels good, too.  
   
You hunt the wife down, she doesn’t even know her husband is laying dead on their bedroom floor yet because she’s dancing to extremely loud music in the backyard alongside her ten year-old son. You stop in track as soon as it hits you that you will have to kill the child off as well, there can’t be a witness. The baby was too small and it didn’t matter, but this child? He’s old enough to give enough information to the police. Letting him live is too risky. You’re not willing to risk your well-being like that for the sake of some kid’s life, but you can hear John’s voice in your mind as you charge the gun and go downstairs. He’d be so disappointed. He’ll be so disappointed. You could also tell Seb to kill the kid, the sniper wouldn’t mind it at all, wouldn’t give it a second thought, but John would be disappointed anyway so what’s the point? There’s no point in playing fair now, you’ve already started the order, you must finish it. You shoot the woman first, she’d be more dangerous if she ran off with her phone and called the police. You are not especially pleased as you see the horror on her kid’s face when the blood spills on his bare chest – they’re both in swimwear – and the floor they’ve just been dancing on. He doesn’t run, surprisingly, he just lies down to protect his mother because he knows you’re gonna shoot again, just to make sure she dies, even if she seems pretty much dead you know she’s still breathing. You feel the sting of pain, of guilt, of shame. You feel John’s disgust when he called you a monster, when he thought there was no good in you. Is there any good in you if you’re willing to kill a little boy for money? Is there any good remaining when you’ve just killed his mother right before his eyes?  
   
-Step away, kid – you command him pointing the gun to his head instead.  
   
-No! You’re not going to kill her! Kill me instead, please – he cries out desperately –. She didn’t do anything, why did you have to kill...  
   
He finishes his speech as a bullet gets through his head. It’s not yours, it’s Seb’s. You look behind you and see the man giving you the thumbs up, everything’s okay, he was probably just getting bored of hearing the boy crying out and decided to end it knowing very well your morality has recently started to show as a collateral effect of spending time with John. Seb likes John, but he doesn’t like the fact that he’s bringing out a good side to your personality and that it can jeopardize the business. He doesn’t like that part one bit, and you can’t blame him. Anyway, with the kid off, you just need to shoot the woman again and you do, but before walking away you can’t help but watch your work. There’s blood everywhere, there’s a damn dead kid with a bullet through his brain right between his eyes – you gotta admit Seb’s a freaking good shooter – and his little corpse is laying across his mother’s. Is this who you really are? You’re not so sure anymore, and as you walk away hearing the baby crying upstairs, you know that it’ll never be the same again.  
   
   
Meanwhile, back in Baker Street, Sherlock and John are just catching up on each other’s lives. It’s obviously John who’s got the most to say, and for once Sherlock is willing to listen without interrupting him. John is not sure if he does it out of kindness, respect, or he’s just interested because he mentioned Moriarty. Either way, he keeps speaking until Mrs. Hudson brings them tea and biscuits. She nearly suffered a heart-attack when she went upstairs and saw John there, but now that she’s accepted it she’s as excited as a puppy to have him back. John feels a little out of place, even if deep inside he knows Baker Street will always be more of a home than Jim’s flat. He can’t help but feel dirty in front of the man who he used to love, the man who trusted him. The man he’s betrayed in the worst possible way: sleeping with the enemy.  
   
-You could ask Mrs. Hudson to prepare your bed for you, if you’d like, you know? – the detective so casually says as to invite him to stay the night, to come back.  
   
-Sherlock, I appreciate you wanting me here but I’m not going to stay, alright? – John carefully announces, laying his tea cup in the table and facing Sherlock’s cold blue eyes – I’m going back with him tonight and, well, every night.  
   
-What? What for? John, can’t you see we finally got Moriarty and you, you brilliant man, you can end all of his empire just tonight! You can kill him in his sleep, we’ll call Mycroft and he’ll get you out of there safe and sound. It’ll be the last of Jim Moriarty, thanks to you! He doesn’t have a hold on you anymore John, you can break free!  
   
-Look, Sherlock, I know this is going to be hard for you to understand so I need you to listen very carefully to me right now, okay? – John sighs and then stands up to make himself look bigger and, hopefully, help himself from stuttering all the way through his little dirty tale – I want to go back, it’s not because Jim is forcing me to. I want to come back to him ‘cause we’re…  
   
-Oh, god, John, don’t tell me you’ve got feelings for that man. It’s a clear Stockholm Syndrome case, you’ll be just fine in a few days if you stay here.  
   
-I knew you’d say that, and I’m sorry to break it to you Sherlock but it goes far beyond your understanding. I’m sorry, but I love him, it happened, there’s nothing you can do to change it. You’re still my best friend, and I’ll be coming here every single day if you want me to, but I won’t leave him, I don’t want to leave him.  
   
-What’s it worth having you around if you’re not gonna help me solve crimes because it’s your lovely boyfriend who’s killing them all off? You’re sleeping with a criminal John, with a psychopath.  
Sherlock stands up as well, throwing away the cup as he does and smashing it against the wall. John doesn’t take a step back, not even when Sherlock walks towards him and looks at him as if he was the most disgusting thing on Earth, but the stare doesn’t last long enough. John knows that it’s not real, that Sherlock will get over it. But right now the detective’s clearly pissed off because he can’t understand it, he doesn’t hate John, he hates himself for not being able to get to his friend. Because he can’t understand love, and it must be anything, anything but it. It’s Jim Moriarty, and for Sherlock that can only mean bad things. He’s the man who tried to kill them, his nemesis. Jim Moriarty isn’t even human in Sherlock’s eyes; he’s a spider. He’s a monster. A murderer.  
   
He can’t understand how a man as good as John could ever love someone who’s not even a bit good, someone who prides himself in being a consulting criminal, in blackmailing, in robbing, in killing people for money. Someone as bad as Jim Moriarty is can’t be loved by someone who’s got a heart of gold such as John’s. And he can’t accept it, he won’t accept that he had it so close and he missed the chance in favour of his biggest enemy. Someone’s who’s simply not worthy of John’s heart. John, his best friend, his best everything. It can’t be. It just can’t be.  
   
He sits down and takes John’s cup in his hands to take a sip of tea and then eats a biscuit, with John looking at it all as though it’s a show for his eyes. He doesn’t have a clue of what’s going on in Sherlock’s head, and if he had it, he’d never come back because it would compromise everything. Because Sherlock didn’t know back then what he knows now, that his heart is able to beat faster for someone else’s, that his head feels much better when John is around, that drugs don’t feel nearly as good as John’s voice. Sherlock knows now that the doctor felt that way around him, and that explains a lot of things, but it also makes him seem stupid. If he had known back then, John wouldn’t have needed to fake this all out. But he’s willing to try and claim what once belonged to him. He’s willing to fight the devil himself to take it back.  
   
John’s heart can only have one owner, and even if Jim Moriarty thinks he’s won the battle, while John is still willing to spend time in Baker Street he still holds a chance, and Sherlock knows better than to give up when so much’s at stake.  
 


	18. Chapter 18

-Are you going to explain this shit to me or do I have to imagine everything?  
   
He is screaming, he’s shouting at you and his face is red with anger, the veins on his temple pumping with rage as he drops the newspaper on the table, right in front of you so you can read what the red coloured headline says, but you already know what it says so you just grab it and throw it away, standing up and taking your mug, full of coffee, away from John before he breaks it as he just broke one of your favourite statues.  
   
-I’m talking to you, James! – he stands in front of you and, as you predicted, he slaps your hand making the mug fall and spill its content all over the floor.  
   
-That’s a pity, I really liked that mug… - you say staring at the dirty floor and all the shattered pieces on it.  
   
John snorts and then slaps you in the face. You didn’t see that coming, and the strength of the impact makes you lose balance, which he takes advantage of to push you against the wall. He’s grabbing your shirt, and it all reminds you of one of the first days he spent in this flat, when he punched you and looked so guilty and scared afterwards. But you know if he punches you now he won’t feel a bit scared, he won’t feel the guilt ‘cause you deserve it. You know you do, at least that’s it for him, and as he stares into your eyes with hate and disgust in his you can’t help but close them, just waiting for it, but it never comes. He lets you go, and as he walks away you start replacing your shirt when all of a sudden he turns around and punches you in the nose, hard, making the back of your head hit the wall and the blood fall with no control. He looks down at you and kicks your stomach once you hit the floor. It hurts, but you feel pleased, just as you did back then, because John is becoming more and more like you. He lets his emotions control him, and he can’t judge you for letting yours do the same even if he wants to, with each hit he loses his right to nag you.  
   
After a few more hits he seems to slowly realise what he’s doing. You know Seb would’ve walked in if you had screamed, but even though you wanted to you repressed all the screams for the sake of his safety, if Seb walked in right now and saw the scene he would put a bullet through John’s brain. No second thoughts. And you couldn’t let that happen.  
   
-John… - you try to speak with the bittersweet taste of blood drowning your voice – take me… upstairs.  
   
He seems to doubt it for a second, but then he slowly picks you up from the floor and carries you to your room, where he leaves you lying on the bed with the promise of coming back once he’s cleaned the mess downstairs. You check if you can stand up and, after making a huge effort to just sit on the edge of the bed, you manage to stay on your feet and walk to the bathroom. Your face is soaked with dark red blood and you wash it with hot water only to find out what looks like a broken nose and a darkened eye. Your ribs hurt, too, and so does your arm for some reason, but you don’t give those two things too much importance. You feel better after recognising your own face and you walk back to bed at the same time as John returns.  
   
He looks at you with a certain sorrow in his face, but he’s not scared, he knows he’s got nothing to fear. He sits beside you and sighs, looking appalled by his own actions, and even though he’s hurt you more than anybody else ever has, you kinda want to hug him and tell him it’s okay.  
   
-I think you have a broken nose… you should probably visit a doctor – he says.  
   
-Well, I think I’ve got a doctor right beside me.  
   
He stays silent, just looking at you, and then he looks at your lips. You notice that he hasn’t hit them, not once, there was no bruise, no cut, nothing. You know it was intentional. You can’t help but lean in for a kiss, very carefully, expecting him to pull back in any second, but he doesn’t and so you go for it. He doesn’t really kiss you back at first, probably disgusted by the taste of blood and aware of the fact he’s the reason your mouth tastes like that, but he eventually gives up and kisses you tenderly as though you might break. It amazes you, how he could have the guts to beat you up just a a few minutes ago and now he’s kissing you so sweetly. It’s like a roller coaster, and you love the feeling it gives you. You love John, you’d let him do anything to you if it only meant you’d get to kiss his lips afterwards. He made it all worth it, even if this time he had gone a bit too far.  
   
-It was you who killed them, am I wrong? – he asks, breaking the kiss but not letting go of you, his hand still on the back of your neck – Just tell me, I know what you’re capable of, I just need to know, please.  
   
-Yes, yes, it was me. What do you want me to say? That I’m sorry? Well, I’m not, it is my job, John, you’ve got yours and this is my life. You knew it before getting inside my bed, you’ve known it all along, you know it right now and yet you’re still here. And you don’t fear me anymore so what’s the fucking matter? Did you need to beat me up to teach me a lesson? Well you haven’t taught me anything, if only that just showed you that in the end you and I aren’t so different.  
   
He stays quiet and you kiss him again, biting on his bottom lip so hard that you taste blood right after doing so, but he doesn’t even flinch, kisses you harder instead. He places himself on top of you and continues to claim your mouth as his with no mercy whatsoever. His hands explore your body tenderly, though, probably checking if he’s hurt you too much and he should be careful, but it doesn’t hurt you, you can’t feel anything but the pressure between your legs. You don’t care about your possibly broken nose which has stopped bleeding without you noticing, you don’t care about the fact that this same man reduced you to nothing about half an hour ago. None of that matters anymore. This what you like the most about John, how he takes it all away with a simple touch.  
   
It’s like the world doesn’t exist anymore, and neither do the past or the future. It’s all about a wonderful present, a present where everything that there is to feel or see is John. And you can’t never get enough of that feeling. You let him undress you, ever so gently, and then you let him fuck you, not so gently anymore. You scream out his name, not sure if out of pain or pleasure or a mix of both, more likely, and he smiles clearly pleased. Your nose is hurting like a bitch, and you hope it doesn’t show in your face but John wouldn’t see anyway. He’s got his eyes closed and he’s letting out a thousand bad words as he thrusts you at an insanely fast pace. He drops his head back as he cums inside you letting out a loud grunt, and that pushes you over the edge as well but you can’t help but moan his name. He looks down at you, as if he was only now noticing you’ve got a damaged nose and a black eye and that he’s done that to you and he’s just had sex with you afterwards. The confusion in his face is so cute you have to stand up and kiss it off his face, and he relaxes a bit.  
   
-I’m okay Johnny, - you tell him - but anyway, I’ll ask Seb to give me a ride to our personal doctor, you can stay here and calm down, maybe have a shower too…  
   
-Can’t I go with you?  
   
-And have Seb break your face just as you did mine? No way! You stay here and do as I said, oh and I’d appreciate it if you went out and bought me something nice since you broke one of my favourite pieces of art…  
   
-Actually, you know, I should go visit Sherlock. He’ll probably want to talk about that murder.  
   
-And what are you going to tell him? – you snort, not believing his words.  
   
-The truth, he knows it as well. Mycroft knew I was here all along and that didn’t put you in danger, so what makes it different now? They simply know you’re just too powerful for them to come after you in here. You know I would never sell you to the Holmes brothers.  
   
You’re unsure of that, but he kisses you in a way that leaves you unable to fight against him, so you just get dressed and leave with Seb, who immediately asks you about the black eye but you say you two just got too excited in bed, as where the broken nose was the result of smashing your head against the shower wall. He doesn’t ask any further, just as you expected, and the ride is peaceful and quiet, as you like it.  
   
   
John is in the flat, he hasn’t moved from the place where he was when Jim left the room after telling him that he loved him, he said those words staring deep into his eyes with those dark brown eyes of his, those that felt as though the criminal mastermind was staring right inside his soul. It gave him goosebumps when he did so. John is still not used to hearing Jim pronounce the three words, those that felt like a curse to him, but aren’t anymore. He’s not used and now that he has finally got what he wanted for so long, something doesn’t feel just right.  
   
John takes a shower and dresses up in an old stripped t-shirt and jeans to meet Sherlock, trying to look as ordinary as possible again. He doesn’t know why he tries so hard, he actually loves Jim’s suits that he bought for him, he likes the way they fit him in all the right places, and how powerful he looks in them when added a nice tie to the outfit. But they don’t feel right for Sherlock. Sherlock is everything but that. He’s the opposite to Jim, he’s everything Jim hates.  
   
In the end, John has come to realise the two of them aren’t so different. Sherlock just chose to play for the right team, but both of them are quite similar individuals. Jim is mad, and he evades himself killing people, whereas Sherlock does it by using drugs. Jim doesn’t like to lose control and yet he does, but it’s pretty much the same with the detective. Both of them deal with a tragic past, one worse than the other’s, but still… and both of them love a good murder. Even if the reasons are the complete opposite. They’re like the two sides of a mirror and John is stuck in the middle, but he’s got a hold of both and he knows if one breaks the other will as well. If Sherlock dies because of Jim, then Jim will be dead to him, and if it’s the criminal who falls in the end…  
   
John would kill Sherlock if it came to that, he knows it, and the realisation hits him like the wind on a winter morning. He would kill Sherlock to defend Jim Moriarty, his best friend, his best everything. For the criminal.  
   
Jim was right, he’s definitely becoming more and more of a monster, just as his lover is, or maybe he has always carried the monster inside of him, waiting for someone to come and get it out.  
   
Either way, dealing with Jim Moriarty has never been harder than doing so with Sherlock. Jim could be a bit… unpredictable, but he was easier to handle than the mad detective when he was angry. And John could tell that Sherlock was going to be very angry today, but he didn’t know to which point the younger Holmes was angry until he knocked on his door and was welcomed by a stream of shouts by the deep voice of the detective.  
   
-A whole family is murdered by your boyfriend and you sit there not saying a word! You still sleep with him, bloody hell I’m sure you just came from fucking him, you can have a thousand showers but I still know when you’ve just had sex John! How can you be so calm after he so casually kills off a man and his wife alongside their eldest son, leaving their baby crying and as an orphan, how can you John?! How!? How are you even able to look at that monster in the eye, even less kiss him and fucking have a sexual encounter with him after he’s killed off three people!? Does it turn you on or something, uh John? Do you like to see the blood in his clothes before taking them off? Or is it his kink to see you licking it off the barrel of his gun?  
   
-I think that’s enough now, Sherlock – John replies, far too overwhelmed to even say anything else.  
   
-I’ll tell you when it’s enough, John! You can’t come here smelling of sex when the man you’ve had sex with has been responsible for one of the worst crimes of the last decade in this country!  
   
-It’s not my fault if he kills people!  
   
-It is your fault ‘cause you could have ended this long ago and not only haven’t you done it but you’re also encouraging it.  
   
-I’m not encouraging it, for God’s sake Sherlock what makes you think I’d ever do such a thing!?  
   
-Maybe if you came back and stopped having sex with him, he’d realise the error of his ways. He did that for attention, John, you know it as well as I do, he doesn’t want you anywhere near me.  
   
John sighs, feeling defeated because he knows Sherlock is right and Jim is just scared and doesn’t know how to face it if not killing people, which is the only thing he’s good at and makes him feel good. He feels guilty, and Sherlock’s words don’t exactly help him.  
   
-I know he did that for attention, but I didn’t just go back home and tell him ‘’oh very well done Jim let’s have sex’’. I didn’t know he did it until this morning and I beat him down when I found out.  
   
-You did what? – Sherlock snorts – You’re telling me you fucked Jim Moriarty right after beating him down? You certainly got some bravery left.  
   
-He’s not what you think he is, partly…  
   
-He’s a murderer, he’s the worst man… thing… being, I’ve come to cross paths with. He’s a virus. He’s a disease to the human race and…  
   
-Shut up, would you? – John interrupts him – I won’t be coming here to hear you insulting him, I’m sorry but this is how things work now. I’m sure there are a lot of things happening in London that require your attention more than a murder you’ve already solved.  
   
Sherlock stays quiet, knowing very well how right John is, but wishing he wasn’t. Oh, how we wanted to end Jim Moriarty’s reign of terror, how he wanted to watch his John beat him down until he was nothing but dust. How he wanted to watch him burn.  
   
John and Sherlock spent the rest of the day together, solving a few simple things that Lestrade had sent Sherlock over the past week, and having lunch together just like the old times. John was beyond happy at times, those times in which he didn’t remember what Jim had done and how he’d have to deal with the aftermath of his own actions when he returned to the flat. Or maybe not, he wasn’t expecting Jim to make a big deal out of it all, but Sherlock had clearly drifted apart and looked at him with such disappointment it broke his soul. It was too much, and so after they had eaten John excused himself and the detective let him go.  
   
Sherlock seemed pleased enough with John’s company, and that was all that Mycroft had asked for. Nothing less, nothing more. A friendly relationship, getting back to normal, or at least as normal as they could get to be after all that had happened. Remembering Jim’s words before he left, John stopped at a bakery and bought Jim’s favourite cake as a way to say sorry for everything. Obviously, he didn’t have half of the money that he’d need to make up for what he had broken, but not that Jim really cared about that, he just loved to be spoiled like a little kid.  
   
And if John had to be honest, he loved to see the child inside Moriarty’s eyes, the only reminder that he had once been a pure soul and, consequently, human.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm awfully sorry for being out for so long, but my final exams were due to last week and so I couldn't write.  
> Anyway, I'm back now and won't disappear again, hope you like this one!


	19. Chapter 19

For a couple of weeks nothing special happened, Jim seemed to have forgiven John for beating him up, and John was careful not to mention anything related to Sherlock. Jim chose to pretend as though the doctor wasn’t really meeting his old pal every single day, and John pretended as if he didn’t know that Jim was having all sort of meetings with business men from all around the world getting his kingdom of terror back. It was a train of lies bound to crash, eventually, but both of them chose to ignore that fact as well, focusing on loving each other in their free time together, and forgetting about each other when they were apart.   
   
This was especially necessary for Jim, whose job required him to have his mind clear and free of distractions. John didn’t exist during his meetings. When he put on the suit, shaved his facial hair and slicked his hair back, he was Moriarty, a spider in the centre of a criminal web. He wasn’t a man at all, in the eyes of his so called partners, who were actually the biggest threat to his empire, he lived alone and loved no one but himself. That protected him, the less human he looked to them the more they would fear him. He knew they respected him as well, but the main tool to control them was fear and that was something he couldn’t take for granted. He loved it when people feared him, even missed it sometimes in John’s eyes. But he didn’t realise that there was someone who didn’t fear him anymore, and that was Sherlock Holmes.  
   
The detective had spent those weeks trying to pretend as well, he pretended that John was there with him every night, that John was sleeping in his room just a few feet away from him and that he wasn’t all alone. He liked to imagine John in his old bed, sleeping in the same position every night, very soldier like, and waiting for him to wake up so that they could go on more adventures together. He liked to picture John still loving him, tried to think of every way their lives could’ve gone if he had been able to admit his feelings to him earlier on, before he had to go and break his heart for him to realise that he did, indeed, have one. He knew John loved Moriarty, he saw it in his eyes and the way his friend defended the criminal every time he came up in their conversations, but he also knew how easy it was for humans to change their heart, whether they wanted it or not. John had loved him before, of that he was sure, so it wouldn’t really be that hard to make him love him again. Only problem was, he had no idea how to do it. Either way he knew John’s heart would eventually look back and find that there was still love left for him, and this time he wasn’t going to let it go. He was going to take it, and he was going to treasure it forever and hide them away. Hide them away from the man who didn’t deserve John Watson’s heart.  
   
   
It’s your fifth meeting of the week, and it’s only Tuesday, you sigh as John finishes fixing your tie and he kisses you to make you feel better about it. But there’s no way you’re gonna feel better about it. He came back home earlier today, brought you some sweets from the bakery he seems to have grown fond of and you both ate them together after making love. That’s how John called it, ‘’making love’’, what for? Love isn’t made in a bed, at least you don’t think so, of course it’s a way to show someone how much you can love them but that comes from outside the bed, once you’re in deep you forget about love, it’s all irrational, it’s an animal feeling, it’s got nothing to do with love. Sex is simply that, sex, it’s getting rid of frustration and getting pleasure in return. But John likes to call it like that as if it made it any better for you to be spending so much time apart and especially for him to be spending it with a man who’s clearly in love with him. Whatever, you don’t have time to fight him on this.  
   
-Who are you meeting tonight? – he asks, again, as if you hadn’t told him five minutes ago.  
   
-I already told you, Johnny, it’s the Russians – you lie, again, because you can’t tell John who you’re really meeting or else he’ll stop you before you’ve reached the door.  
   
-Alright, be careful, will you?   
   
-When have I not been careful? – you snort, then caress his cheek with the back of your fingers – No one will harm me, darling, and if they even try to do so, Seb will be there for me.  
   
He kisses you one last time and then you wave goodbye before meeting Sebastian at the door. The sniper has an amused expression on his face, as if he knew exactly why you look so concerned. You don’t like to lie to John anymore, even less with such an important issue, but it needs to be done this way. Sherlock Holmes needs to be threatened, and you can’t do that with John standing in the way.  
   
Baker Street looks quite nice at night, the city lights make it look cozy and warm, nearly inviting. But you don’t need an invitation to go where you’ve already been to, to step in where your own cameras are. No, you like to pay visits like this, surprising everyone. You can hear the violin from outside the building and you smile. Sherlock is quite a gifted musician, if only he had dedicated his life to play the violin instead of solving crimes…   
   
Seb waits for you outside the door, not downstairs just in case the old lady wakes up. It’s all quite dark but you don’t miss a single step and so your arrival is silent, as if you were preying on him rather than just simply visiting. But aren’t you preying though? Wouldn’t it be better for everyone if Sherlock just disappeared tonight? You could do it, you can do it, but he’s done nothing to you just yet and John wouldn’t like that. John, poor little Johnny waiting at home thinking that you’re actually in an important meeting. Or maybe he didn’t believe it. Home. You call it home now, because it’s not a simple flat to hide anymore, it’s where you share your life with John. It’s a life you like a lot, a life that could end because of Sherlock Holmes.  
   
-I’ve always loved Bach – you point out, making him stop playing and staring at you ever so calmly – oh please, don’t stop for me! You can finish, I was enjoying it!  
   
-I’d rather not, take a seat, please.  
   
You look around and go for the couch in front of his, which you know was John’s, is John’s still. Poor fool didn’t have the nerve to put it away when his best friend died. Adorable.  
   
-I’ve been noticing a certain pattern in your behaviour towards John… as you can imagine I make him tell me every move you make, every… single little thing, and I’m not as much as a fool as he is so I’m telling you: drop it – you warn him, standing up from the couch and walking up to meet him, sat on his, staring deep into his eyes - Don’t ever dare to touch him, to look at him more than five seconds straight or I’ll make you have your eyes removed with a spoon, do you understand? John is mine. I’m gonna let you live but just know that if my life, my current life, is changed ‘cause you couldn’t keep it in your pants I’ll make yours end, I’ll make it end slowly and painfully, Sherlock.  
   
-I’m not afraid of you, Jim, we both know you can’t harm me now. Threaten me? Of course, I’m sure John doesn’t even know you’re here, you don’t want it disturbing him in bed. Or maybe he knows… maybe he’s wondering where you are, or maybe he’s thinking of me right now… who knows? I don’t, and certainly you don’t either.  
   
-Do you really think I won’t kill you just because of John? I haven’t killed you because you haven’t done any of these things I forbid you to do yet. The moment you do it, there will be nowhere for you to hide… - you get out a knife you were hiding in your pocket and start drawing lines on Sherlock’s skin, all over his face, without pressing it just so he can feel the cold burn of the metal - I’ll hunt you down Sherlock, I’ll send all my men out to find you and when they do? Oh, when they do I’ll lock John up in my flat for days, he won’t know but I’m sure he’ll eventually figure it out, and then he might escape and save you but… he won’t know where you are, and maybe I keep you alive just in time so that he can walk through the door, look at you in the eye one last time right before I take your life. Wouldn’t that be great?  
   
-You wouldn’t do that to John.  
   
-I won’t do it to John, idiot – you chuckle, hiding the knife away again - I’ll do it for myself. John won’t want me anyway if I end your life, but just so you know and he knows that I don’t share. You touch what’s mine? I could have someone eating your heart right before his eyes.  
   
-You see? That’s your problem, believing John’s just an item, a thing, that you can own a person. You’re so wrong Jim… and the moment I do kiss John he will never come back to you, you know that as well as I do, so when you come for me I’ll have him standing right in front of me and you won’t be able to kill me because you’d have to kill him first. We both know John Watson is the most loyal man the world has ever seen. He won’t betray me, not even for you, he’d give his life.  
   
-Then his life shall be taken, not by me, of course, but I’m sure I can arrange that.  
   
-You’re a fucking monster – he spits, as if it could ever hurt you – enjoy John tonight, I can assure you it will be your last night together.  
   
-Well then, make sure you enjoy yours as well, because if you do... tomorrow's could be your last night ever.   
   
You stand up, leaving him on the couch staring at you with disgust and some kind of fear in his eyes, you’ve got what you wanted, even if he doesn’t want to show it. You walk around the room for a few seconds, admiring the messy surroundings, and then open the door to leave.  
   
-Goodnight now, though, Sherlock, and please do think about it for a minute, don’t fool yourself into thinking you could ever win against me.


	20. Chapter 20

   
You haven’t slept. At all. John’s naked body lies still right by your side, his breathing making it move low and steady. You like it, you like him so very much. His skin is glowing covered in a cold sweat and you can’t help but trace your finger over it ever so gently. He used to be a very light sleeper, anything could wake him up, but now he doesn’t even shiver when you put your finger on him. What if Sherlock was telling the truth? What if it is, indeed, your last night with John?   
   
No. It can’t be. It can’t be your last night together, not when the heat emerging from John’s body is keeping you warm, not when he mumbled he loved you in his sleep just a few minutes ago. John won’t go. He simply won’t be able to. Just as you wouldn’t either, you’d do anything, anything to keep him right here, to freeze time, to live in a world where it’d just be you and John and there was nothing but this bed, this room, this moment.   
   
It’s 3:58 am, you keep that in mind, because it’s the exact moment you realise you’re in love with John Watson. You. You are in love. You’re in love with such a good man it seems nearly impossible. How did this happen? Why did you let him get inside your heart when he said you didn’t even have one? It can’t be, but it is. So if something as unbelievable as this has occurred, why couldn’t it be that Sherlock would take him away? You feel the need to cry, and that’s not right at all. It’s not right because you haven’t cried ever since you were a kid. John is so unaware of this, and it’s better this way… John is here. John is with you, John is in love with you too. The moonlight is making his skin shine in the dark, and it’s such a pleasing view, it’s such a pleasing thought to think of this beauty being yours.   
   
You now understand why Sherlock said John can’t be owned. John is some kind of magic, an extraordinary creature in a world full of pain and darkness. He’s the light, he’s the only light you see and he dead sure is Sherlock’s too. You feel it now, you feel his power. John is sleeping, but he’s still so powerful in his sleep. Such an amazing human being. How could you ever lose him? It’s not right, it wouldn’t be right. You can’t lose John, you’d destroy the entire world.  
   
-John – you call him, shaking his shoulder slightly – John, wake up, John!  
   
-What the hell Jim? – he asks, his voice husky from sleep – Is everything alright?  
   
-Johnny… – you put your hands around his face, caressing his cheeks with your thumbs and staring up and down from his beautiful blue eyes to his lips –. Everything is alright, I just wanted to tell you, I’m in love with you. John, I am in love with you.  
   
-I know Jim – he replies trying hard to keep his eyes opened – I am in love with you too, darling, now let’s go back to sleep.  
   
You kiss him. You kiss him hard, feeling every inch of his mouth, you explore it with your tongue and lick everything you find in there, you bite his bottom lip gently just to taste it again. You love how he tastes, it’s bliss, it’s the best thing you’ve ever had.   
   
-You haven’t slept at all, have you? – he asks when you break apart, looking quite concerned.   
   
-I was staring at you. I could not sleep and miss the wonder that your skin glowing in the dark is.   
   
He snorts, but he smiles so brightly you’re afraid it will blind you. His smile is the only sun you need. He’s so happy, and it’s amazing that he can find happiness in you, because you could not see any trace of happiness in yourself before he came along and changed everything.   
   
-Go to sleep, Jim, you can see my skin tomorrow, alright?   
   
‘’You’ll go with him, so no, I won’t be able to’’ you think, but you remain silent and nod. He smiles again and kisses you one last time before turning around and going back to sleep in the same position he was right before you woke him up. He doesn’t understand, he doesn’t understand but you can’t tell him or he’ll believe you’re just paranoid and, also, find out that you lied to him. You don’t think Sherlock will tell him, because he threatened you too so it would be reckless of him to expose himself when John thinks he’s oh so good. No, Sherlock won’t confess, but you need to. But that can wait, for now, John needs to be admired until he wakes up again by his alarm.  
   
It’s 4:30 am now, and you know you wouldn’t just kill for him, you’d die for John Watson.  
   
   
John knows something is not quite right, even if his heart has got a funny warm feeling ever since last night, when Jim confessed his love for him, he knows something’s up. It kills him that his boyfriend won’t be able to speak to him about what concerns him. Jim wasn’t sleeping for a reason, but he won’t tell him which reason was it. He finds him making breakfast when he goes downstairs, eventually, after having a shower and getting dressed. Getting ready for Sherlock, when Jim is just there showing him a dashing smile and impossibly perfect pancakes.   
   
-Good morning love, – he greets John, placing a soft kiss on his cheek – did you sleep well after I woke you up? I’m kinda sorry I did that, but you know how I am.   
   
John laughs. How could he not laugh when Jim Moriarty, the so called most dangerous man in the country, is telling him he’s sorry about waking him up in the middle of the night to tell him he’s in love with him? Impossible not to.   
   
-It’s alright, guess some things cannot wait – John reassures him -. Just like these pancakes I’d say, they look delicious.  
   
Jim smiles proudly, his ego easily showing on his face. That’s the Jim that he’s used to, a selfish little shit who tries to hide his feelings so deep he even believes he doesn’t own them at all. But he does, John has learnt to read in between Jim’s lines and he’s found there’s so much more to him than what he lets show. Jim is a twisted, dark soul, but John chose to see past beyond what he was, chose to see what was hiding behind the darkness. The first time he stared into Jim’s eyes from up close all he could see were demons and anger, now he sees the insecurity and the ghosts of his past. Moriarty would’ve never become a brand name if he had been loved, and it scares John to think of what Jim could ever do if he was to leave him, if he was to lose the only thing that had made his heart start beating fast again.   
   
John knew he was the key to Jim’s last remain of sanity, that the psychopath would never recover if he disappeared. He doesn’t want to, though, he’s finally found peace in Jim’s arms somehow. He finds peace in the man’s dark brown eyes, in his wicked smile and the smell of his bed. He loves Jim’s smell. He guesses it’s a complex mix of aftershave, expensive perfume and his natural essence. Whatever it is, John feels safe when he smells it. John hadn’t felt safe ever since he returned from war. When Sherlock would play the violin late at night while he sat on the couch, too tired to move to his bed, so that he would fall asleep, John used to feel safe, but it wouldn’t last. However, Jim’s mere existence makes him feel safe. Knowing that Jim is somewhere in the world, even if it’s not by his side, makes John feel at peace with himself.   
   
Jim has become John’s happy and safe place. He looks up to him, lost in his own breakfast, and smiles when the other man finally looks up to him, to which Jim grins. He would never leave him.  
   
Sherlock doesn’t know the depth of John’s feelings towards Jim. He meant what he said last night, and he thinks it over again and again as he walks from side to side of his flat waiting for his friend to arrive. He hasn’t slept at all either, just like his nemesis. His curly hair is messy and his red eyes show such dark bags underneath them that John thinks he has drugged himself when he finally arrives to Baker Street.  
   
-Sherlock, are you okay? – he asks, placing a hand on his shoulder and examining his eyes quickly – You haven’t taken any drugs, have you?  
   
-John! – the detective complains – I haven’t done that… I just didn’t sleep last night.  
   
The doctor nods, not giving it a second thought, not finding the correlation between Sherlock’s lack of sleep and Jim’s. He just accepts it, and Sherlock goes on and on about the Yard’s last case and how useless they all were. Same as always, but something is not right and John still feels that. Sherlock is not himself, he sounds more anxious than ever, and that’s not a good sign. John knows it’s not the case what worries his friend, because it’s not really that hard and they get it solved in no time. It must be something else, and it’s just when Sherlock invites him to have lunch that he realises why Jim didn’t sleep last night and neither did Sherlock. Jim had lied to him, he wasn’t meeting the Russians, he was with Sherlock.  
   
-John? – Sherlock asks him to get his attention – What are you having?   
   
-Uhm… I’m not really hungry so I’ll just have a pint – John answers, staring at the waiter who was waiting on him to come back to Earth.  
   
The man nods obediently and leaves them alone again, but there’s nothing John can say to Sherlock that doesn’t include Moriarty now. And he knows how much the detective hates that topic, so he just waits for him to be the one who talks about it, if he wants. Sherlock doesn’t even mention Jim once during lunch, as he silently eats while John drinks lost in thought.   
   
They walk back together to Baker Street, and even if John insists that he won’t stay, Mrs Hudson makes them tea and brings biscuits for them upstairs so he has to stay and eat. He feels Sherlock’s eyes on him too intensely, his stare burning a hole in him and he’s suddenly taken back to when Jim was just an enemy and they didn’t know each other. Back to when he would have given anything in the world for Sherlock to look at him like that. There was longing in that stare, there was a primitive need and some anger, some self-hate too, but John was too used to seeing that in the young Holmes’ eyes for it to make a difference now. And even if he would’ve given anything for it in the past, it was just annoying now. And dangerous. Whatever Jim and him had discussed John was sure it had to do with him, and for Sherlock, even breathing in front of him would be considered a threat. Jim hates to be threatened, he destroys every single tiny threat to his life. Sherlock doesn’t need to become a threat if he goes now, he thinks, he needs to go before the detective does something he can’t take back.  
   
But he stays. John stays, and Sherlock feels the urge growing deep inside him, Sherlock feels the need and feels what John had been feeling all the time. He understands why he wanted off so badly, it must have been hell to feel this way for so long, not being able to do anything about it. Sherlock knows he has to let go, to let go or face up to Moriarty and kiss the man in front of him. How real Jim’s threats were, he couldn’t know, all that he knew was that he had been hiding for too long, and maybe it was time to do something good for himself after all.  
   
   
You were watching it all from the cameras, you were quite sure of the fact that Sherlock knew they were there and he didn’t mind at all. It was amusing, to see how lost Sherlock looked and how your John kept distance with him because he knew, oh, he knew, that the detective wanted him after so long. You were watching it on the edge of your chair, though, because there existed a chance that Sherlock would make the move he needed to make, and if that happened, you would have to kill him, it had been discussed.   
   
However, when it happens you freeze in place. You can’t move, you can’t even think of anything. You pick up you gun and stand up, but sit back down again because, what are you gonna do? Step in there and shoot him three times in the heart? That’s stupid. You can’t do that. But his lips are on John’s and John stays there for a second, maybe as surprised as you are, before pushing Sherlock apart from him and staring at him with terror.  
   
You wish you knew what John is shouting, but it doesn’t seem pretty at all. Sherlock’s face is not giving anything away, but you know that John is scared, and angry. You guess, and you hope, that he’s angry because of what Sherlock did rather than for the fact he was supposed not to have liked it. You hope that he hasn’t liked it. You hope that he’s hated it as much as you, and just like that you wait for him to come back home, because you’ve seen him leave the flat. You wait in front of the screens, gun still in hand, and nothing but darkness in your brain.


	21. Chapter 21

-Jim? – you hear his voice echo through the corridor, coming from downstairs because he’s just arrived home, his footsteps giving away his position as your hand still holds onto your gun tightly, if he finds you, he’s going to find you like that.   
   
John is close now, and he’s calling you, he hasn’t stopped calling you. His voice is the only thing keeping you from pointing the gun to your head. You’ve been thinking of killing yourself ever since he left Baker Street. You turned off the screens, what for anymore? And just stood there, as if nothing had happened. But so much has happened. It would have been easy, to not have to face John like this. You don’t want John to see you like this. But you didn’t want John to find you dead either, if he had just stayed there…  
   
But he came back, he came back for you. He didn’t stay, he didn’t let Sherlock go any further, he broke the kiss and came running right back at you. He did all of that, but still there’s Sherlock’s DNA on his lips, there’s the fact that he kissed your boy. The fact that he wants to take away your only reason to live. It’s Sherlock or you. The criminal mastermind or the detective mastermind. It’s not a battle between the devil and the angel, in that case it’d be either him or you against John, but Sherlock is no angel. He’s the devil in disguise, when you just chose not to hide who you truly are.  
   
There can only be one of you on Earth, only one of you who gets to spend the rest of their lives with their guiding angel, the only light of their lives. There can only be one, but somehow it feels as though whoever survives, you won’t get John for yourself. John will be forever gone if there’s only one of you. There won’t be no light left inside of him. John needs his two devils.   
   
But you can’t share John, that’d be losing the game Sherlock and you have been playing for so long. Dying, on the other hand, is not as much losing as it’s giving up. You let him win, but you’re not beaten. The game would disappear with your life, you wouldn’t lose it, it would just fade.  
   
-Jim! What the hell are you doing? – he asks when he finally finds you, staring anxiously at the black screens and the gun in your hand – You were watching us, weren’t you?  
   
You don’t answer, not moving a single inch of your body as you stare into his scared blue eyes. Such a beautiful sight, your Johnny boy. So soft, so pure, so wonderful. So good to you. His presence makes everything better, but you know that yours is making him feel bad. You want to make him feel good, maybe if you only killed Sherlock and found you two a place somewhere far away…  
   
-I asked you a question, for God’s sake can you say anything? At all? You’re scaring me! – he pleads you, taking your free hand and getting on his knees. And oh, how you’d love to make him stay right there and suck you off, suck Sherlock’s blood off the barrel of your gun after killing him, but John would never do either of those if you were to kill his best friend. His only friend.   
   
-We were never friends – you reply, unamused, holding tightly onto his hand.  
   
-What? – he asks, sounding even more confused than he was.  
   
-You and I, Johnny, we were never friends – you softly explain to him, taking now his face with your free hand and caressing his cheek – you and me… we are not friends.   
   
-What the hell do you mean with that?   
   
John has got on his feet now, and he stares at you with a trace of fear, then his eyes go to the gun in your hand and he motions to take it away from you but you’re obviously quicker and put it away far too easily. A strike of fear flashes through his eyes as though the realisation of what’s happening has just hit him and he watches with horror as you point the gun at him.  
   
-I’m not going to kill you, you know that – you explain, losing it, standing on your feet too as to be face to face with him – and you know that I can’t kill him either. You’d never forgive me for that, would you, Johnny boy? Nah, you’d just cry over poor little Sherlock, maybe kill me out of revenge, tell me John what the fuck would you do?  
   
He takes a few steps backwards and you throw the gun away, because you realise you had lost it before it all started. After everything you’ve been through, John is still afraid of you, he is scared right now, he doesn’t know what to do. You don’t even know what to do, and you can’t blame him for being scared of the most dangerous man alive. You know what you are, you only wish he had realised sooner.  
   
-Jim… - he murmurs, taking your hands and placing them on his hips, ever so carefully, before taking your face in his’ – look at me, please. Why do you feel like you need to kill Sherlock?  
   
-He wants you. And he’s your friend, you won’t give up on him just because he kissed you.   
   
-And so? People go through that all the time, he will get over it eventually. Jim, I want you, and you only, I love you.  
   
He’s on the edge of crying, and you can feel yourself tearing up as well, but you swallow it instead of your pride and take control of the situation again. You can’t let him fool you. He loves you, yes, you can clearly see that, but he doesn’t understand what that means.  
   
-I love you so much, Johnny boy… I can’t risk losing you… - you say as you stroke his back and then his neck before kissing him passionately – you’re all I’ve got. But you’ve got him too. You don’t need me, you know you don’t. He is not like you, John… he’s just like me, he’s a genius, he’s a mastermind who happens to be on the right side of this game but he’s no different from me. Our minds, Johnny boy… they work the same way. You’re the human in the middle of a computer game, you control us, you guide our every move… but he’s the side you chose to play with. He’s been on your side ever since you met, and I have not.   
   
-Jim, love, I don’t understand a single thing you’re say….  
   
-And that’s why – you interrupt him – I have to set you free. We can’t live together, Sherlock and I, one of us has to die because there can’t be two of us. You complement us, John, both of us. This is a game between him and me, and I accept it’s ended. He won, he got you.  
   
-What the hell are you on about? It was just a kiss, I don’t want it to happen again, I don’t want him, I want you!   
   
He desperately tries to get you back to his lips, but you push him away and quickly kneel in order to take back your gun, which is now cold from being left on the floor. Your heart will be just as cold soon. It’s what must be done. For him, for John.  
   
-Please, understand I do not want to kill off your best friend. This is the only way I can do it, John, I have to kill myself. For you, Johnny, this is all for you. You can move on, be happy with him. Please do as I say, go away, leave this house and let me finish what I started.  
   
-I won’t leave you here, I won’t let you do that! – he is screaming now, out of his mind, letting everything out – I won’t let you end your life, I can’t face mine without you!  
   
He’s lying. It’s what people say when they’re in love, but they all survive when it’s over. Well, most of them do. Because you know this is you giving up because it’s over. You won’t survive love, but he will, because he got Sherlock, and you got no one but him.  
   
-I will write my note, Seb will find it and I will make it clear that he lets you read it when you come back pretending not to know what I was going to do. I will make it clear to him as well that it wasn’t your fault so he won’t come after you. This is goodbye, John, do as I say and there will be no harm done to you or Sherlock. If you stay, well… then I’ll send Seb for him.   
   
You see the horror, the pain, the memories flashing through John’s eyes just as much as you feel them in your own heart. It’s painful, but it will be all gone soon. It’s for the best, you can’t live your life depending on someone else’s anyway. It had to end, rather now than when John was in too deep to ever get out.  
   
-Please, Johnny… - you walk up to him, take him in your arms, hug him, kiss him, run your hands over all his body, remembering so damn well every inch, everywhere he likes to be touched. The best thing you’ve had the pleasure to touch. The best thing that’s ever been yours – Please, go.   
   
-But… I love you – he cries on your shoulder – I don’t want you to kill yourself, I want Sherlock to live, I will leave with you, we can go anywhere we want, I won’t ever come back to him whatever he does, I promise. Please, Jim, please.  
   
You almost want to give in, but it’s decided. You’ve made up your mind. It’s for the sake of the only one who’ve ever really loved you. It’s for the sake of John Watson. You understand Sherlock now. You know the detective, as inexperienced as he is, may be able to give him something that you weren’t able to: a happy, healthy, relationship. Yours was passionate and true, but also dark and messy, toxic even, and it wasn’t going to last forever anyway.  
   
-I love you too, Johnny… - you whisper into his ear – I’ve loved you more than I’ve loved anything else in this life. I will go happy, knowing that I was so lucky as to be loved back by you, my boy. Now, if you will, go and save Sherlock, go and save yourself for me.  
   
He stares at you one last time, you know this is the last time by the way he looks at you as though you were the only thing left on an apocalyptic world, and then he kisses you. His tongue tastes like it always did, there’s no Sherlock left in it, there’s nothing but you. A match that should have never matched, but did anyway. He wipes away a tear on his cheek and leaves the room without daring to look at you in the eye again.  
   
You’re glad he didn’t, otherwise you wouldn’t have been able to do what you’re about to do.  
   
You sit down and start to write, it will be easy for Seb to find the note and he won’t have time to run upstairs and save your life. You’ll die just in time, it’s a close shot, you know how to kill someone so that their death is quick. You know how to do it with your own life as well.   
   
You put your signature on the note, ever so formal, and then leave it on the table. You stare at your surroundings one last time, and then you close your eyes. You picture John, waiting for you at the gates of something that’s in-between heaven and hell; the only place where you two could ever be happy forever since you don’t belong in the same world. It’s not like you believe in those things. When you die, it will all go black and you will feel nothing. You end there. Nothing else.   
   
There’s no pain in death, no regrets, no darkness, no demons. There’s nothing but peace. An eternal peace, what you were looking for. You realise now that this was no place for you, that you shouldn’t have been born at all. Sherlock wasn’t the enemy, the enemy was yourself. All those people you helped along the way in all the dark possible ways were only a tool, a temporal bliss. Nothing lasted forever. Nothing but pain, nothing but darkness, nothing but drowning depression soaking your bones and your whole being. John was also a way out of that. A drug, and you can’t live high all your freaking life.   
   
You accept that you lost this game since you were born. That maybe fate put John in the way for you to realise. John wasn’t a purpose, he was just the key to freedom. Freedom is nothing but death. You can’t be free as long as John exists in the same world as Sherlock Holmes does. But you can’t be happy in a world with Jim Moriarty in it. Moriarty is your enemy, you sent yourself to the spiral of darkness and drowning. That’s why you must kill yourself. You destroyed yourself, you keep doing so every single day of your worthless existence.  
   
But it’s gonna be over. Eyes closed, John in your mind, and that damned song is playing again, but it doesn’t matter now, because you can give your mind the pleasure of being distracted for once and for all as you pull the trigger. Pain. John. Darkness. And then… nothing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is Jim's goodbye, my friends. I'm very sad to say so.  
> However, there will be one more chapter, an epilogue to close the story from John's POV, so it's not goodbye just yet.


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From John's POV, his last goodbye to Jim.

It’s been a year since he died. He’s still in my mind every single day, I thought I’d be over it by now, but it hasn’t got better. It never does, not at all. Jim is still in my mind as if he had turned into a ghost and lived in the depths of my brain, but I know he’s no ghost, he’s nothing but dust now, quite literally. When he shot himself, Seb made sure that no one found his body, or any of his work, by setting the entire building on fire. He only saved the money and his note, and gave it to me on a very dark night not long after the suicide. He said thanks for having made his boss happy, his friend, he called him, and I could only break down and cry on his shoulder. However, that was the last time I saw him, and I never told Sherlock about it because he still wanted to end with everything Moriarty had left behind. After a whole year, he hasn’t yet realised that to end Moriarty he would have to end me too.  
   
I step into the scorched flat and wait inside for a sign that we actually lived there, for anything that could remind me of him, but everything is destroyed and nothing could have resembled Jim Moriarty better than that. A burnt building that could be amended with some effort and time, just like his soul. I still blame myself every day for not having seen it earlier, for not giving him all my time to try and mend his broken pieces. I know, I know he wasn’t worthy of my pity, of no one’s, but I can’t help but think of how different he could’ve become if we had had more time…  
   
I walk through the empty rooms, they were cleaned after the fire, and I imagine the colours of the walls, the old furniture, I am back in there one more time, back with him. I blame myself for this, too, because Sherlock dared to kiss me again four months after his death, and I couldn’t step away. Ever since, he’s been like a different man as well, more comprehensive, more passionate, but still Sherlock Holmes after all. He is now more than just my best friend, but I mentally cheat on him every single damned day, every single one, and he knows it too. Knows it, doesn’t care about it, says he loves me all the same and I know I love him too, but I loved Jim more. I will always do.  
   
I brought the note that Seb let me read when he died, the note that made it clear that he wasn’t coming back. It wasn’t a magic trick, he was really gone, forever. Forever is such a long time… even more when it’s only been a year and it already feels like a lifetime. I get it out of my pocket slowly, feeling it in my hand as though it weighted a ton, and before burning it down as I planned to do, to say goodbye and try to move on, I can’t help but read it again:  
   
‘’Dear Seb,  
   
This note is fully intended to be read by John Watson, so please read what I have to say to you first and then give it to him. No games, it’s my last wish. For you, I can only say thanks for the loyalty, I know you’ll be the best heir for my empire and I hope you manage to keep it half as well as I did. However, I must ask one last thing of you, and that’s to protect John, and by consequence, Sherlock.  
I know you won’t like this, but in order to fully assure John’s well being you must protect Sherlock Holmes from any harm as well. I hope you will stand by my last command as always, old friend.  
   
Now, for John (stop reading it now, Sebastian),  
   
My dear Johnny boy… how much fun we’ve had these past few months, it’s been like a roller coaster, hasn’t it? I still remember the first time I caught you looking at me with that unmistakable look of love that idiotic people always have for each other, and you know what? I also knew when it happened to me, when you turned me into an idiot for you. I’m going to be honest with you for once, John, you must know that I never planned to love you back, but to destroy you and drag Sherlock down with it by using you as I wished. You can see how my plan failed miserably, but I couldn’t be happier it did. You made me happy, Johnny, you did the impossible, and for that I give you the only thing I’m capable of: freedom. You would have never been free by my side, because I was never free by it either. You might not understand this, but it doesn’t matter, I only want you to understand that you were the best thing that’s happened to me in my life. No empire, no crime, no prize, would ever match the feeling of your skin pressed against mine. Nothing could ever compare to you, you’re so extraordinary that I am lost of words for once in my life.  
   
I set us both free now, Johnny, and when my blood spills on the floor from my lifeless skull I will also be making sure that your blood stays in your veins where it belongs for a long time. Please, don’t stick to my memory for too long, I am already a ghost in this realm, so don’t turn me into something I was not in the aftermath of my death. I was James Moriarty, criminal mastermind, long before I was anything else to you. Remember that when you’re feeling too down to ever function. Remember that and try to find happiness, don’t let the darkness consume you like it did with me, but also, please, remember that I loved you, that you made me feel love again, and that’s such a nice thought… remember that I love you, and I always will.  
   
Yours, forever,  
   
Jim.’’  
   
I can feel the tears soaking my t-shirt, how the fabric presses so disgustingly against my skin in those places that Jim loved to kiss and I loved to be kissed in. I don’t feel strong enough to burn down the last reminder of the fact that he ever existed, but I know that there’s no coming back home with it. I need to let it go, I need to do as he asked me to, I need to find happiness.  
   
The flat doesn’t smell like burnt things anymore, not as much as it did six months ago when I first visited it again. This one shall be the last time as well, so I take my time walking around it, folding the note again, to burn just before I leave it. It makes me feel safe somehow, to feel it inside my pocket, knowing that it was the last thing Jim touched before taking his life. It might sound a bit creepy to anyone else, but to me it makes perfect sense.  
   
I walk into the kitchen and remember how I realised that I loved Jim, in that same place, so long ago. I remember he was making us pasta for dinner, he was wearing a stupid apron with silly cartoon drawings and he hadn’t shaved for days, so his usual stubble was turning into something more and his hair was messy after we had spent the whole day having sex. It was such a normal scene, it could’ve been such a normal person making a normal dinner, but it was James Moriarty and he was cooking for me, it was the most dangerous man alive and he was wearing an apron. He looked so soft, so pure, so not dangerous even… I realised that I loved him, I realised that I actually didn’t mind spending my life hiding with him. It had turned into what I wanted, he was what I wanted, the only thing that I could ever want. I remember that I was in shock at the realisation, and when he turned around he mocked me for the expression on my face and told me to set up the table. I know now that he probably knew right away why I was so moved, but he didn’t say anything because he was thinking of all the ways to use it against me… it’s a nice memory anyway. I wish I could know when was the exact moment he realised he loved me, just so I could understand our relationship better, but Jim was a mysterious man, full of secrets, his face was a vault which I couldn’t trespass, just as his heart.  
   
I want to cry, and I give myself permission to do so, because no one can see me here and I know that I can allow the intrusion of the tears. My heart aches with every step I take in the direction of his bedroom. Our bedroom. It never feels the same when I’m in bed with Sherlock, somehow, there’s something missing, something that was never missing when Jim and me spent the night together. I guess he took away a piece of me that I’ll never get back. I sit on the rests of the calcined mattress, which hasn’t been taken away for some reason, and I sob uncontrollably. It’s now one of those times in which I do wish Sherlock was here, but I didn’t even asked him to come, it’s not something he would’ve liked, and I know I had to be alone for it. I’m saying goodbye after all, it seems nearly impossible that I ever lived in such a devastated flat…  
   
I know there’s nothing left to do here, that I’m just trying to lose time so that the end doesn’t come so soon, but I can’t help but stare into the emptiness and let the pain flow right through me. It’s the last time, I promise myself this, the last time that I let myself lose it over his memory. I spent too much time speaking to him on my mind, in restless dreams, too many conversations that always ended in the same way: ‘’I loved you, why did you leave me all alone?’’. And then I’d realise I’m not alone, and Jim knew I’d never be. But hell, didn’t I love him anyway… don’t I love him still with a passion that I would’ve never believed I could ever feel…  
   
Suddenly, I get up, guess that my mind has decided it’s time, and as a light breeze strokes my hair and sends shiver through my spine, I get the note back to my hands again and set it on fire with a lighter that I also brought alone. I watch it burn as I hold it in my hands until it’s too much and I have to let it fall to the floor. It feels as though I dropped a heavy weight, a burden, but it also feels similar to being stabbed in the heart. At least, what I suppose it would feel like before it’d kill you.  
   
The flames recede in no time, being it simple paper, and with a last push of the fire, it burns its last inch and stops. I think I see his face in the dark smoke that comes from it, and even if I know how wrong it is to believe it, I let myself smile at it as it disappears into the bottled air.  
   
He’s gone forever.  
   
Mine, forever.


End file.
